


Arguments

by Silverclare33



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Chiss, Clone OCs - Freeform, Clone Troopers - Freeform, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mostly original characters, Togruta - Freeform, Twi'lek, Zeltron, all characters tagged are original characters, character tags will be added as they show up, jedi ocs, pantoran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverclare33/pseuds/Silverclare33
Summary: A small squad of clones is left behind in a life pod after a battle, and rescued by a ship full of lady smugglers and a renegade soldier. Each one of them, born to die in a war that makes no sense, will find a place in the cruel universe to call their own, to finally call home.





	1. An Argument Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I realize probably nobody's going to want to read this unless you've already been reading it on my tumblr (@silversong79) but even though there's, like, barely any canon characters, I still believe this is a great story that needs to be told. Also if you go bother @kaminoanbat about this because she's the mastermind and co-author, that would make us both very happy

Even with the Ebinor on autopilot, Rogue still thought he was doing pretty great in the pilot's chair, all things considered. He was alone on the bridge - a rarity for most of his life, and still as uncomfortable as a sore tooth he wanted to poke at. He carefully nudged the nose of the craft through the wreckage of a space battle, not long over but with nothing alive in sight. Both sides seemed to have fled. He swallowed and tried to ignore the racing of his heart, tapping his metal foot on the floor with rhythmic clinks.

 _This is not my war any longer_ , he told himself. _It shouldn’t matter that this is Sep space now_. But it did - and since old habits die hard, he found himself desperately scanning the wreckage, as if looking for pieces of brothers long since dead and gone.

_Winger...._

Scoffing, Rogue shook his head. Thinking about him was not healthy. _Just pilot the ship_ , he thought to himself. _Just keep going and you'll be fine._

The door to the bridge hissed open. Soft footsteps with an odd rhythm to them sped up, then stopped abruptly. Rogue half-turned and tried not to roll his eyes.

“Ligara,” he said carefully, chewing his lip. “Something wrong?” The Kaminoan blinked her huge black eyes and folded her hands in front of her.

“You’re piloting the ship?” she asked languidly, but for a Kaminoan her voice was awfully fast and anxious. “Through Separatist space?” “Well.” He gave her a tight smile. “Certainly looks that way, doesn't it?”

She rolled her eyes and sat down in the copilot seat. “Don’t be coy, clone,” she says. “It doesn’t suit you.”

He ground his teeth; he was not going to snap at her, not when she was one of the women smugglers who'd saved his life when his brothers left him for dead. It was only fair to be polite. Rogue tried to smile, but he was fairly certain he just looked like he'd swallowed sour bantha milk.

“Look,” he said shortly. “It's not exactly like I'm a stranger to starcraft, Ligara.” He'd been in love with a pilot, once. “But Dreu put the ship mostly on autopilot. I’m just steering through the debris field.”

“Oh, good.” Her relief was almost tangible, and Rogue’s stomach twisted. _Stop it_ , he warned himself. It wasn't her fault - she couldn’t help what she was any more than he could. But even though he knew it wasn't fair, seeing her still made him want to run. _Torturer_ , his instincts kept insisting. _Murderer_. All he could think of was Mouse's shattered face when he came back that night. The kaminoans did that, every last one of the slimy long-necked bastards.

But Ligara wasn't there. She'd never mentioned why she left Kamino, but it was long before the Jango clones were born, apparently. He knew she wasn't a murderer, not if she was on this ship with an aggressive Twi’lek mechanic, a sarcastic Togruta fortune teller, and him. Half a clone, running from a war he was born to fight.

There was silence between them for a while - strained, awkward, like a healing wound that was itching and he wanted to scratch, but knew he shouldn't. This was probably the best it would get between him and Ligara.

Suddenly, she stood out of her chair, one long white hand pointing out the viewport – and the fact that a Kaminoan's done anything suddenly made it far more urgent when she spoke.

“What’s that?” she asked. “There - can you see it?”

“No, I’m completely blind,” Rogue snapped, not taking his eyes from the huge white object that almost filled the viewport. “Oh, wait - if that were true you would’ve killed me, right? Gotta be useful.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said impatiently, stepping gracefully toward the window. “I see something.” The next second, the object turned lazily in space - and Rogue went colder than ice, his stomach dropping to his feet. “It’s an escape pod,” he whispered reverently, pressing his fingers against the glass as his breath fog hid the view. “We have to help them.”

Ligara narrowed her eyes, peering across the gulf through the transparisteel window of the pod. “Clones,” she murmured. “Poor creatures. I wonder if they’re alive?”

Rogue swallowed, hands tight on the controls. “They are,” he says. “I can feel it. Go wake the others - we have to help them.”

She made a sympathetic noise that ground on his nerves, and had the audacity to put a hand on his shoulder; he jerked away and glared at her.

“Rogue,” she says, “It’s a nice thought, really, but it’s just not realistic at the moment.”

A beat of shocked silence. He felt a warp go through the world as adrenaline pulsed through him. “What the kriff did you just say to me?” he hissed. “Saving my brothers’ lives isn’t realistic?” His voice had risen to a snarl now, and she backed away. “They need my help! They’re almost out of air!”

She blinked nervously, head swaying on her long neck. “We can’t just rescue every lost soul we come across,” she said. “It wouldn’t be -” “But we can save these ones!”

Pounding footsteps, two sets, and the bridge door hissed open again. Dreu, yellow eyes flashing like she was already spoiling for a fight, stepped in and immediately went to stand by Ligara. In the second before she spoke their hands entwined, pale blue-green on white. “What’s wrong?” she asks, looking up at her girlfriend. “Do I need to ready the cannon?”

“I don’t think so,” Doriana said slowly, stepping onto the bridge after Dreu. Her eyes, blue as night, were locked on the escape pod. Her head tilted sideways with that strange, thoughtful look she got when she was sensing the future. “There’s your problem, Dreu.”

Dreu glanced out the viewport, then between Rogue and Ligara, taking in the situation in one sharp glace. “Oh. I see.”

“Please,” Rogue found himself saying, almost begging. “They could be dying. You have to help them!”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” she said, still considering the pod. “Shut up and let me think.”

“We’d be vulnerable if we stopped,” Ligara pointed out. “And even if the Separatists don’t notice us stopping, what if _they_ stop _us_ and find us with a bunch of clones?”

“I don’t know.” Doriana crossed her arms, chewing thoughtfully on the corner of her maroon lip. She was still staring at the pod like there was something important about it beyond what they could see. “We’re talking about people’s lives.”

“Clones,” Ligara says dismissively.

Rogue growled then - a real, angry growl. “You mean soldiers? Brothers, who might be wounded, in pain, running out of air?”

Dreu hissed out air, pinching the bridge of her nose with a teal hand; behind her, her lekku swung back and forth with the movement. “We can’t risk it,” she said finally. “Ligara’s right -”

“Ligara’s always right with you!” Rogue interrupted, indignant. “You always take her side!”

“Rogue, please, there's no reason to be fighting.” Doriana’s voice was meant to be soothing, but it grated on Rogue’s nerves. _Yes there is need to fight!_

Amid the horrible sour churning of his stomach, Rogue noticed something: he was still at the controls of the ship. And he hadn't been lying earlier when he said he knew how to fly. Winger had shown him a lot.

 _No need to follow orders_ , he thought grimly, and pressed the button to dock with the pod. The fighting went silent like it had been switched off. Dreu let out a pointed sigh that sounded like a weapon. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said. Rogue held back a smile - nobody, not even Ligara, would be cruel enough to fly away now that the clones had heard the ship dock.

…..

Heartbeat pounding hard, Rogue stood by the airlock. They’d call him a deserter, he knew that. Even though he was technically more deserted than deserter. But still, he couldn’t regret saving their lives.

The airlock swirls open.

There were five of them - one asleep sitting up, over in the corner, with longish hair obscuring his face. One lying on the floor staring at the ceiling - not dead, Rogue noticed, since his black-lined eyes were open and blinking. Another had his arms crossed and was glaring at the wall like it'd personally offended him. And standing at the door, long braided hair over one shoulder, was one of the biggest Arc Troopers Rogue had ever seen, cradling an unconscious brother in his arms.

“Please,” said the man with the braided hair desperately. “Cat’s hurt. Have you got a medic?”


	2. Catch your Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's much shorter, more an in-between thing. There will be scenes from more p.o.v than just Rogue soon, don't worry! Also if anyone is actually reading, thank you and enjoy!!

Rogue avoided the med-bay like it was infected with blue shadow virus. Part of him wondered if it was – but most of him knew there was no plague. Just his clone brothers – which, in a strange way, was almost worse. But that didn’t mean he wasn't curious. He had to know what happened to them. And so he stood just outside the door, wearing a hooded cloak that hid his face in shadow.

Doriana and Ligara were working together – Ligara focused on the one that was really hurt, while Doriana looked after the smaller injuries that come from having a ship blow up around you.

No one spoke. Not even a whisper. As if they were afraid even the slightest thread of sound would shatter everything around them and they’d be dying, gasping for air in their escape pod again.

The largest clone, the ARC trooper, barely seemed to notice Doriana’s hands checking him for internal injuries. He never took his eyes off the one Ligara was tending to.

“Is he going to be alright?” he said, finally breaking the silence. To most civilians, clone voices and faces were all alike, but that was ridiculous. This one had a voice much deeper and richer than Rogue's, for one thing.

Ligara startled a bit when he spoke and looked up to meet his eyes.

“It’s still early,” she murmured, ducking her head. That was just her way of saying she had no idea, but didn’t want to admit it. The ARC trooper pressed his lips together and bowed his head. He looked like he was about to cry.

The one Ligara was working on, the injured one – he looks younger. He could even be a shiny if it weren’t for his tattoos, visible over his heart on his bare chest. And his hair, of course, wasn’t regulation. None of them were. Things must've loosened up a bit around the GAR since Rogue died.

What’s the younger one’s name? Kit? No, Cat. He had little whiskers tattooed on his cheekbones and pawprints on the palms of his hands. It made him look rather childish, a heartbreaking contrast to his pale face and the blood on his lips.

A loud huff of breath sounded in the newly-fallen silence; Rogue watched the trooper with the eyeliner move to sit beside the big one with braided hair; and although he didn’t take his eyes from Cat it looked almost automatic, the way he slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder. Rogue remembered how that felt, the casual closeness and nearness of his brothers. His throat tightened; he looked away. He missed that – so much, sometimes, that the pain of it in his chest woke him up at night, clutching the sheets and screaming about tanks.

“Cat’s gonna be fine,” said the one with the makeup, softly as if to himself. “He’ll get better and I’ll teach him how to mimic people and he’ll scare Charm in the mornings.”

“Be quiet, Switch!” The hissed voice came from a clone with slicked-back hair and a hard set to his mouth. His brown eyes were too wide, too bright – holding back tears. “Just shut up already.”

“Charm.” Just that one word from the one with the braided hair, spoken with a voice full of exhaustion, was enough to silence both of them. “Fighting won’t help our brother.”

“We’re clones,” said the last one with a hopeless, apathetic voice as he stared at the ceiling. His hair was messy and tangled down to his shoulders, and there was a nasty cut that would probably need stitches over his cheekbone. “Fighting's all we do, remember?”

The ship juddered slightly as it jerks into hyperspace, and all of them – even the other clones – breathed a sigh of relief.

A few minutes later, Dreu strode into the med bay, crossing her muscled arms over her chest. “How is he?” she asked Ligara, voice clipped.

“He’s stable.” Ligara stood away from Cat, whose sleeping face was more peaceful now. “Beyond that, I can’t say yet.”

The braided-hair clone stood abruptly, letting Switch fall to occupy the place he’d been sitting.

“Rowan?” Switch says. “What’s wrong, brother?”

Rowan turned his face away sharply, but Rogue could just glimpse the glitter of tears on his eyelashes.

“I need to think,” he says. “I – I need some time.”

It took a minute for Rogue to realize Rowan was coming directly at him. A minute too long – he was here. He stopped, rubbing at his eyes.

Rogue swallowed. _Please don’t let him look too close._

“You were the one that opened the door,” Rowan said. “I never got to thank you.” He holds out a hand, and Rogue’s heartbeat hammered as he took it. He still couldn’t speak.

“What’s your name, friend?”

He didn’t answer – if he did, Rowan would know. He’d know the voice of a brother, the voice of a deserter. _What do I do?_

“I’m sorry, can you speak? Do you use hand signs?” Rowan put a huge hand on his shoulder, and Rogue stumbled backward, the hood falling back from his face.

There was a beat of silence that feels like a warp going through the air. Rogue was frozen, staring at his brother in horror.

“You’re a clone,” Rowan said softly, his voice a sad sigh. “Oh, my brother…”

Rogue turned on his heel and ran.

 

 


	3. Ground Rules

Doriana finished cleaning one of their guest's split lip. Charm, she thought was his name, though she couldn't think of a human who looked _less_ charming than this one. She lifted her head, hearing the sound of Rogue's metal foot striking the deck as he ran past. Rowan was still standing at the door, staring after Rogue with wide eyes.

“Oh no….” Doriana breathed, wincing. She'd thought they might have a little more time before they had to explain about Rogue. She jumped to her feet and ran after them, startling Dreu as she hurried past her adopted sister.

“Dori! What the hell?”

She didn't answer, hurrying out of the med-bay. Now Rowan had run off too, chasing after Rogue to question him, probably. _Ay je mai! I thought we'd have more time._

It didn't take long to find them – any being with sense could feel the shockwaves of turbulence and fear emanating from them, so it wasn't hard to follow. Besides, the Ebinor was a tiny ship. There wasn't really many places you could run.

She rounded a corner and through the door of the tiny galley, and what she saw sent her heart into her throat, her stripes flashing white.

Rowan caught the back of Rogue’s shirt and physically lifted him, as if he was no heavier than a basket of fruit.

She felt her lips twitching, wanting to pull back from her sharp teeth in a snarl, but she waited. _This might not be as it seems – well, it might be exactly like it seems, but we’ll see._

Rogue’s face was white with terror – though whether that's from being lifted or discovered, she's not sure.

“Please!” Rogue cried out. “Please don’t make me go back. I can’t -”

With a sharp intake of breath, Rowan set him down – gently, too.

“Take you _back?”_ he says incredulously. “We’re not – I’m not here to hurt you.”

Doriana narrowed her eyes, stepping into the room. She didn't say anything yet, but she knew Rogue would appreciate her being there. He was still shaking, his face pale.

“Look at my leg,” he said hoarsely. “Go on. Look at it.”

Rowan did look – down at the salvaged battle droid leg he has instead of a flesh one, and then back up to Rogue's face. His eyes – very wise eyes, Doriana noted – held only sympathy. No judgment. He set a gentle hand on Rogue’s shoulder, but dropped it when he flinched away.

“Brother,” Rowan said softly, “we don’t turn our backs on people who save our lives.”

“I was dead.” Rogue’s voice was haunted, and Doriana sensed the same awful wrench of fear from him that he’d stank of when they first rescued him.

“I got caught under a Sep tank – it crushed my leg and almost the rest of me, too. My team, my brothers, they -” his voice choked off, and without a second’s hesitation, Rowan pulled him in and wrapped his arms around him.

It was right then, at that exact moment, that Doriana decided she liked this Rowan. And not just for his deep voice and ridiculous muscles and fancy hair. No, it was the compassion he had for a near-stranger, his willingness to comfort someone he barely knew.

“Careful,” she said dryly to Rowan. “He might follow you around if you keep snuggling like that.”

Rogue stepped away and gave her a deadpan look. “Oh, right, like I’m the only one on this ship to get attached.”

She winked at him. “You know it.”

Footsteps pounded down the hallway – a lot of them. _It’s a clone stampede!_ she thought, and almost giggled, but didn’t say it. Considering the present company, it might be in bad taste.

Three identical faces peered in the galley door – identical at first, but within a few seconds their expressions marked them as different, even if their hair hadn’t given it away. She knew their names now, too – that tended to happen when you patched people up. People talk to medics.

There was Crow, watchful and quiet, careful and cautious. Taking in every shred of information he could – she saw it in those gleaming eyes of his, framed by messy black hair down to his shoulders.

Beside him - Switch, his mouth in a wry twist, eye makeup askew from crying. He'd spiked his hair up in some outrageous style, peering over Crow's shoulder. His eyes kept flicking between Rowan and Rogue.

And Charm – eyes narrowed, lips pressed together. He was at the forefront, curiosity outweighing his general grumpiness for now.

Before any of them could speak, though, Dreu pushed them all aside and stood between them and Rogue with one hand on the blaster at her hip, yellow eyes flashing.

“Listen up,” she barked. “We’re all very happy you’re alive and all, and you’re welcome for saving you, by the way. But this ship – my ship – has a few rules.” She grinned; her teeth were nearly as sharp as Doriana’s, and it would've been alarming to anyone not from Asfaloth.

“Well, only one rule, really. It’s simple.” With a slight narrowing of her eyes, she made Rowan back away from Rogue.

“If you do anything to endanger anyone on my ship – even if you’re not currently on it – I will personally shove my hand down your throat and rip your heart out so fast it’ll still be beating when I shove it back up your ass. That clear?”

Each of them nodded, knowing exactly to whom she was referring. Crow, however, sets a hand over his heart and let out an offended gasp.

“Do you actually think we’d – you lot saved out lives! What do you think we are, droids? Look at my hair! Does that look like the hair of a perfect soldier? Does it?”

Against her better judgment, Doriana let out an unholy snort of laughter.

“Well, I think we’ve found the next Holonet star, Dreu,” she snickered. “Such drama!”

Rogue stepped out from behind Dreu and watched the other clones carefully.

“My name’s Rogue,” he says. “And I’m – I’m not a deserter. I didn’t run.” He swallowed, and rubs the back of his neck. “My unit left me for dead – and these three saved me.”

Switch stepped forward with an easy grin and a confident swagger.

“No worries, brother,” he said with a wink. “Anyone here see any deserters? Any clones at all?”

“Well, there’s us,” Charm said, arms crossed over his broad chest. “But I don’t see any deserters, no.”

Dreu narrowed her eyes, giving each of them a scrutinizing glare. “Glad we understand each other,” she said, before leaving the galley.

Across the room, Rowan metsDoriana's eyes with a shy smile. Something in her stomach flickered to life, tiny and bright and warm.

“Thank you,” he said, “for saving my brothers.” His kind eyes travelled over the others in the room - Crow, Switch, Charm - and finally settled on Rogue. “All of them.”

 

 


	4. Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rowan is a blushing mess, Doriana is a sadistic flirt, and Cat is a sad baby.

Doriana crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the tiny sleeping quarters. Their crew size had just doubled and they didn’t quite have the room for the new numbers. Three bunks. Total. For nine people, now, not including the poor boy who was still asleep in the med-bay.

“ _Aica umbar,_ ” she groaned as she returned to the galley were Rogue was getting reunited with his brothers.

Doriana stepped in, the door closing behind her, and tried not to laugh. Crow, Charm and Switch had managed to drag Rogue into what looked like a story telling group while she was gone, and Rogue was on the floor laughing like she'd never seen before.

Rowan watched his brothers from afar, and Doriana again felt that strange hum in her montrals when she focused on him. Her instincts with people were almost always right. _Almost._ But something about him...

As she moved to stand next to Rowan, Doriana took in everything about him she could. He was slightly taller than the others, and a little wider in the chest. His long dark hair was braided over his shoulder. Probably against regulations, and yet he still had it. He had a pauldron, too, something the others didn't. Probably meant he outranked them.

Doriana smiled to herself. So he has power over them, but from the way his brothers act around him – and what she's seen so far – he's not the kind to abuse that power. _And_ _he's kind to stranger's too._ He was almost too perfect.

With a tiny smile, she glanced at the others, and then back to Rowan.

“You must be very proud,” she murmured. “Your sons are quite resilient.”

The corner of his mouth lifted as he gave a little huff of laughter, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“They’re a handful, though. Charm – you see him? Slicked-back hair?”

Doriana nodded, and he continued. “He doesn’t truly wake up until he’s had a mug of caf. And every morning, Cat hides –”

He fell silent, lips pressed tight together.

_Cat._

Doriana wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong with him – that was Ligara’s department, and she’d been holed up in the medbay trying to fix him since they brought him on board.

But seeing Rowan’s face, she wanted nothing more than to tell him Cat was awake and healthy. She wouldn't lie, though. That was cruel. Instead, she reached out and took his hand, looking up into his face. His gloves were rough under her fingertips.

“He’ll be alright,” she murmured. “Our medic is a Kaminoan, you know. They’re sort of the experts in clone health.”

“I noticed that.” His hand in hers gave a gentle squeeze, and it sent a tiny thrill of light through her stomach. Whoa. That hadn't happened since she was a teenager. “Thank you, again,” Rowan said, and then paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t actually know your name.”

“Doriana,” she said with a wink. “Call me Dori if you like.”

He dipped his head respectfully. “I’m CT-7039. But my name is -”

“Rowan, right?” she interrupted, dropping her eyes to the pattern of entwined branches on the chestplate of his armor. “It’s a good name. Suits you, I think.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a smile – just a hint of the dimples he might have if he were really grinning. And, she noticed with a tiny thrill, there was a faint flush of pink along his cheekbones. “I chose it myself, actually. Back when I was just a shiny.”

“Shiny?”

“New,” he clarified. “You know, because the armor’s all clean and shiny?”

“Ah.” She looked him up and down, slowly, purposefully. “Well, you’re not very shiny, are you?”

“Nope.” This time his smile was bigger, a little easier. He shifted his weight, turning a bit more towards her. “I’m not an officer, though. I have no real authority except as an ARC Trooper. But -”

“I know what it is,” she said, in almost a singsong voice. “You’re their father.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged modestly, but doesn’t deny it. “Someone’s gotta look out for these _di'kuts_.”

“And it might as well be you, right?” She smirked, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“Sort of?” he shrugged. “Actually that just….happened.” As he spoke he reached up to his shoulder and played with the end of his braid, a habit that looked quite unconscious and entirely adorable.

“A natural leader,” she laughed, narrowing her eyes as she leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I like it.”

Oh, that was _so_ worth the effort, seeing him shiver and blush like that. If that was all it took to have such an effect on him, she could really have some fun later.

She stepped back, smirking, and let her fingers wander over his chest plate – and the intricate patterns there – before rapping her knuckles against it.

“Something wrong tough guy? You look a little flushed…”

He swallowed, eyes widening just a little. Looked like he'd finally caught on.

“N-nothing,” he stammered. “Nothing’s wrong. How are you?”

He winced like he knows exactly how terrible he sounded, and Doriana let out a peal of laughter, head tilting back so her lekku fell sideways.

“You’re cute,” she said.

His face was cherry-red now and frankly, it was adorable. She hadn’t had this much fun flirting since that time they stopped to refuel on Naboo. “Relax, big guy, I’m just teasing.”

“I’m aware,” he huffed, lifting an eyebrow. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Mm-hm.” She reached up – again – and kissed his cheek. “Like I said. You’re cute.”

And on that note, she made her exit, smiling a victorious smile.

…..

Cat was cold. That was pretty much all he knew at this point – he was cold, and he was breathing. At least the second one was a good sign.

But he couldn’t move. Not even a twitch. And that scared him more than any droid he’d ever faced.

Was he in stasis, frozen? In a bacta tank? Had he pissed off the Jedi too much and gotten sent back to Kamino?

His heartbeat sped up – the only sign of the crippling fear in his chest. His breath stayed slow and even.  _Where are my brothers?_

Old memories, ugly and raw, rose to the surface of his mind from where he’d buried them. Harsh smells, cold hands holding him down, smothering restraints. Hissed voices, chilling in their calm: “ _Cadet 3986. Abnormal. Reconditioning recommended.”_

 _Please, don’t let it be that._ Let his brothers rescue him, let them stay together. They were his family.

There was a faint touch at his wrist – the skin cold and soft. Too soft. It was _them._

With a jerk and a gasp, his eyes flew open.

He was right – there was a kaminoan standing over him, checking his pulse or something. He scrambled back away form her, a scream wrenching from his throat.

“Get away!” His voice was hoarse, throat stinging. “Please, no, get away! I’ll be good, I promise -”

“Calm down!” hissed the kaminoan. “Cat, calm down. I’m trying to help you.”

 _They all say that. They lie._ Oh, Jango, how did they know his  _name?_

“Please,” he whimpered, holding his hands above his head. It was all he could manage. _What a pathetic coward. What would Mouse think?_

The Kaminoan sighed and shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing his hand and jabbing a needle in. “You’ll heal better if you can stay calm. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

His vision swirled; his tongue felt thick.

“Get away,” he slurs. His eyelids drooped closed. And once again, his breathing was slow and even.

 


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute interspecies space lesbians discuss keeping shameful secret, more at 11

Ligara looked down at the sedated clone laying in the bed. He looked rather pathetic – shivering and paler than he should be, head back at a funny angle. He’d torn the stitches along his ribs; she’d have to fix that. He doesn’t need to lose any more blood.

She hadn't been directly involved with creating the Jango Fett clones, but she was familiar enough with human biology and kaminoan engineering to know it would take another few days at least for him to recover from his concussion and broken ribs.

She hoped he was really asleep. _Poor thing,_ she thought. He was afraid – no, not just afraid. _Terrified –_ the wild flash of his eyes, hands raised over his head to shield himself, the jarring scream. His words echoed hauntingly in her mind:

_Please, no, get away! I’ll be good, I promise!_

He'd been absolutely terrified _._ Of her.

She frowned – just a slight downturn at the corners of her mouth, but for her that was a flagrant display of emotion. She'd drugged him. For his own safety, of course, but how was he to know that? And what were his brothers going to think? She wasn't a medical doctor, she was a geneticist. And more a theoretical one at that. There was a big difference between creating simulated beings and having a real one depend on you for survival.

Ligara sighed. Everything had gotten so complicated. But there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty, and as much for comfort as anything else, she said it out loud.

“I need to tell Dreu.”

…..

The comm on the bridge buzzed and crackled to life. Dreu groaned out loud and glared at the stained ceiling, pulling on her lekku in agitation.

 _A ship does actually need a pilot, you know!_ she thought sourly. _I can’t always be leaving it on autopilot!_

“Dreu? Can you come to the med-bay, please?” Ligara’s voice came through with a burst of static. _I gotta fix that._

If she’s not wrong, Ligara sounded rather anxious…which meant something must’ve really shaken her up.

“I’ll be there in a second, babe,” she said, fiddling with the comm piece. There. That should clear up the signal.

Sighing, Dreu got to her feet. If it were anyone but Ligara, she’d tell them exactly where they could go and shove their problems. But Ligara’s problems _were_ Dreu's problems.

So, with her fingers fluttering lightly over the controls, she set the Ebinor to steer itself for now. They were in hyperspace anyway. What were they going to hit?

All the doors on her ship made the same familiar hiss when they opened. It was the sound of home, to Dreu. This was her place in the universe, no matter what part of the universe it happened to be in. And as she strode through the doors into the med-bay, the sight of Ligara standing there brought a rare smile to her face. Her girlfriend really was gorgeous.

“Hey, babe,” she said. “Something up?”

Ligara blinked her big black eyes a few times – she was uneasy, wringing her hands with her slit nostrils flaring.

“What’s wrong?” Dreu asked, coming closer to put an arm around her narrow waist. “Is the kid okay?”

Dreu looked the trooper over – she can’t stop thinking of him as _kid_ even though he was probably the same age as the others. He just seemed childish. The long gash along his ribs was bleeding sluggishly. She looked up at Ligara, frowning. “What happened?”

“He woke up.”

“He did _what?”_ she hissed. “Ligara! Then why -”

“I drugged him!” She was positively distraught, and not even just by kaminoan standards.

“I’m sorry! He was – agitated. No.” She shakes her head, shoulders slumping gracefully downward as she lifts a hand to her face. “He was so afraid of me he ripped his stitches. It wasn’t safe for him. I – I had to.”

Dreu clicked her tongue sympathetically and drew Ligara closer to her. “Oh, babe,” she sighs. “You did the right thing. There was nothing else _to_ do, as far as I can see.”

Ligara sighed and squeezes Dreu’s hand. “I hope you’re right. It was…he was terrified. Of me.”

Dreu didn’t know if kaminoans could cry or not, but suspected that her girlfriend maybe would like to at the moment.

“You’re not scary, babe,” she said, trying for a jaunty grin. “Well, except when you snore and hog the blankets.”

“I do not!”

Smiling softly, she pulled her down for a kiss. “Totally do,” she breathed. “It’s okay, though. I forgive you.”

“You better.” Ligara smiled as she kissed her cheek.

“We gotta tell Dori though.”

Ligara groaned, and Dreu laughed.

……

The Ebinor was, for the most part, a fairly informal ship. Okay, scratch that. Dreu had meant it when she said she only had one rule.

But the clones wouldn’t know that. She settled into the pilot’s chair and cleard her throat, feeling strangely awkward. She pressed the button for the shipwide comm system.

“Attention,” she said, cringing. “Doriana to the bridge please. Repeat, Doriana, your presence is requested on the bridge.” She clicked it off and let out a pent-up breath.

“That was terrible,” she groaned. “Dori’s gonna laugh at me.”

“Most likely,” Ligara said with her arms crossed. She was almost smirking. “And yes, it was rather terrible.”

Dreu buried her face in her hands. “Well, aren’t you supportive.”

Ligara smiled faintly and squeezes Dreu’s shoulder. “I know.”

Doriana sauntered onto the bridge, smirking. “I didn’t know you’d gotten that lazy, sister,” she said. “The ship’s not that big, you know.”

“Shut up,” Dreu huffed, embarrassed. She narrowed her eyes, looking at her adopted sister. “Wait a second. Why are you blushing?”

Doriana’s eyes widened.

“Nothing. You’re blushing. Shut up.” The stripes of her lekkuwent even more vividly colored than before – a Togruta blush.

Ligara cleared her throat. “We need to tell you something,” she murmurs.

“Oh, nine hells, you’re getting married!” she squealed, covering her face with her hands. “Finally!”

“No!” Dreu snapped; she was pretty sure she was blushing now, too. “You’re as bad as dad. Leave it alone.”

Dori gave her a skeptical look, but dropped the subject. “So what’s up, then?”

Ligara sighed, putting her head in one hand. “The clone woke up,” she hissed. “And I had to drug him.”

“You what now?” Doriana’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, lifting one white stripe over her eye. “And why, exactly, was that necessary?”

“He was panicking,” Dreu stepped in, seeing how miserable it was making Ligara to talk about it. “He was going to hurt himself more.”

“So you _drugged him?”_

“Argh!” Dreu gave her head a shake, lekkuswinging behind her in her agitation. “Look, we just needed you to know.”

“Well, yeah,” she scoffed. “I don’t like this, Dreu. It’s not fair to him – ”

“He’s perfectly safe,” Ligara put in. “The sedative won’t damage anything. I’m sure of it.”

Dreu didn’t think that was what Dori was talking about, but she didn’t have to say that – her sister set one hand on her hip and pursed her lips.

“He was afraid, you say,” she started. “He probably thought he was being reconditioned or punished or something, if you were the only one there.”

Ligara’s eyes widened; she put a horrified hand to her mouth. “Oh, gods,” she whispered. “Poor creature.”

“Well, that was helpful,” Dreu snapped, glaring at her sister. “Look, it’s already been done. Can we just agree this needs to stay between us?”

Doriana took a long time to answer, chewing on the corner of her lip. “I don’t like it,” she said again. “But…you’re right. I won’t tell the clones.”

“Won’t tell the clones what now?”

All three heads turned in unison toward the source of the sound: Crow. He was perched on the counter as if it was the most natural thing in the world, his posture deceptively relaxed. But the lines of his mouth were hard and tight and there was a cold glitter of black in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was like stone. “What’ve you done to my brother?”

 


	6. Confliction

Crow hopped lightly down from his place and approached Ligara. Slowly, leisurely almost. Like he was stalking. Her face was pained, even for a Kaminoan. He didn’t care. They never should’ve trusted strangers.

“What the karking hell did you do to Cat?” he snarled, standing up on the balls of his feet to get in her face, which wasn’t hard with the way she was slumped over.

“I – I had no choice!” she said, backing away. “He was -”

“What. Did. You. Do?” He punctuated each word with a step forward, and wouldn’t deny that it felt good when she stepped back. When he was young, her kind meant pain. A small part of him knew he wasn’t being fair, but he was beyond caring. “Tell me right now, you spindly-necked -”

“That’s enough!” Dreu, yellow eyes flashing, stepped between him and her girlfriend. “Do not _ever_ speak to her that way again, you hear me? You’re on _my_ ship.”

“And you’ve hurt my brother,” Crow retorted, scowling with his arms crossed. “How do I know  _she_ won’t do more?”

Dreu snarled, showing just how sharp Twi'lek teeth could be. “Fight me, bitch.”

Doriana rolled her eyes and stepped between them.

“Stop it,” she said evenly. “Both of you, calm down before someone gets hurt.”

Crow rocked backward on his heels and clenched his fists.

“Look, if he’s dead, just tell me.” Oh, no, is he _crying_ in front of them now? “Just let me say goodbye.”

“Dead?” The Kaminoan said incredulously. “He’s fine! Well…”

The bright flare of hope in his chest was sharper than a blaster bolt. “He’s…he’s alive?”

The Kaminoan – Ligara? - had her arms hugged around herself.

“He’s alive,” she whispered. “I…”

Dreu wrapped an arm around her girlfriend’s waist, pulling her closer. “It’s okay,” she murmured, in a softer voice than Crow had heard her use yet. “You did the only thing you could.”

Crow had always been known, even among his brothers, as the quiet one. The one who kept to himself and made the dumb jokes and didn’t seem too affected by anything.

It was a lie. He just happened to be very good at keeping a lid on what he felt so nobody would see it. But his controls were about to come loose now, with everything he’d been through. He remembered the panic of making sure all of them made it onto the escape pod, the dumb horror of seeing his brothers’ bodies float by, the creeping fear as the air ran lower.

And he remembered Cat’s howl of pain when the beam fell on him. “ _Don’t leave me!”_ he’d screamed.“ _Please!”_

And not one of them could ignore that. It’s landed them here, probably declared dead, but he was alive. Cat, his funny little brother, was alive.

Crow swallowed hard, eyes stinging with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, molding his face back into careful politeness. “Thank you for what you’ve done. I – I’ll just go.”

“I drugged him,” Ligara said miserably. “He woke up, but he was so afraid when he saw me…I didn’t know what else to do.”

Five minutes ago, that would’ve made him explode with rage. Now, he was just exhausted. He lifted a hand to his face and sighed.

“He would be,” Crow muttered. “When he was just a kid, they – well, he was an odd kid, always climbing things he shouldn’t or wandering away. They wanted to find out why. He was…disciplined…a lot.”

No one spoke. Dreu looked disgusted, Doriana horrified, Ligara miserable.

Crow shrugged, trying to play it off. “Ah, well. It isn’t the worst that’s happened to one of us.”

Dreu squinted at him suspiciously. “Yeah, well, that’s all great. But if I ever hear you talking to Ligara like that again -”

“What, you’ll kill me?” Probably not the best thing to say, considering their situation.

She smiled; or, more accurately, she bared her teeth. “That’s what you’ll hope for.”

Doriana rolled her eyes again, but she was smiling too. “Must you be so dramatic, sister?” She turns to Crow. “Do you want to see your brother?”

“I -” his throat closed, so he simply nodded.

She jerked her head in the general direction of the medbay. “Follow me.”

…..

He did look better, Crow admitted reluctantly. But that wasn't exactly _difficult_ given the kid had been half dead last time Crow saw him.

The bruises had faded a bit and the gash along his side was fading as it healed. But his slack face was still twitching with troubled dreams, and his skin was covered with shivers. Throat stinging, Crow turned to Doriana.

“Are there – are there any blankets? He gets very cold…”

“Crow?” The voice, accompanied by the hiss of the door, threatened to break him down again. Rowan.

 _Oh, good,_ the world seems to be saying. _Rowan’s here. It’s safe now. It’s alright._

“Rowan?” Doriana straightened up when she heard his voice, the grey stripes on herlekku darkening.

He smiled shyly and ducked his head as he stepped into the room. “Hello. I heard we were allowed to see Cat now, Miss Erithuda.” He looked up to meet Doriana's eyes, and there was a faint flush along his cheeks.

Crow raised an eyebrow. Was she….was _he?_ No. No kriffing way. That’d be too weird. There was no way.

Nobody, not even the Jedi, knew what it was about Row that made people feel so safe, but there was definitely _something,_ a vibe he gave off like a hug that said you didn't have to worry anymore. And when his brother met his eyes now with that calm, wise look, Crow felt like a child again.

“Alright, brother?” Rowan asked softly, playing with the end of his braid.

Crow sighed and crossed his arms, looking down moodily. “I’ll be better when the little twerp wakes up,” he muttered.

Rowan pursed his lips, considering Crow for a minute, and then threw his arms open without a word.

Crow didn’t even hesitate. Everyone loved hugging Rowan. Hell, he’d even seen Jedi do it before. One time after Skywalker took on his padawan, the commander had gotten hurt and it was Rowan who carried her back to base like she weighed nothing.

Crow closed his eyes and squeezed his arms around Rowan, listening to his heart.

When he stepped back, taking a deep breath, things seemed clearer. He turned back to Cat, and squeezed his sleeping baby brother’s hand. Hopefully whatever dreams he was wandering through are pleasant ones.

“So Rowan,” Doriana said with a sly little half-smile. “Do I get a hug, too? Or is that a family-only thing?”

Rowan's face broke into a grin as he stepped forward, enveloping the togruta woman in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ack!” she squeaked. “I’ll talk! Just don’t crush me!”

Crow’s eyes widened as he looked between the two of them.

Oh, they _so_ are. What in the ever-loving hell….

 _I’m out._ Crow threw his hands in the air and left the bay without another word. He needs some alone time.

Rowan and Doriana didn't even seem to notice him leave.

 


	7. Barriers

Rogue leaned back against the wall behind him, listening to Charm and Switch talk. It brought back memories - of sitting crowded onto the same bunk with the whole squad, laughing and telling stories about Jedi and Sith. And more memories he'd rather not acknowledge for the thorns they bring to tear at his heart. Of laying entwined with his Winger, head buried against his neck as they whispered to each other.

 "-And the clankers?“ Switch said with a laugh. Without really meaning to, Rogue rubbed his droid leg, beige metal from a standard B1 battle droid. _I’m part clanker_. He scowled and looked down, lips pressed together. That was a stupid thought. He was still a clone. Still one of the vode. But the thought lingered as he focused in on the story of Charm’s name.

“So the whole squad’s pinned down in the mud, surrounded by tinnies. All about to be blown to hell without mercy, you know the drill. Then this little shiny comes running up the trench from the General. He trips. Falls on his face, of course, because it’s this guy we’re talking about.”

“Ugh.” Charm rolled his eyes, dropping his head into his palm. “It was  _one time._ Once.” Switch's voice was bright and animated, with a higher pitch, while Charm's was a low, lazy rumble full of gravel.

Switch grinned and smacked his brother’s shoulder playfully.

“Aw, it only takes once, see? So anyway, shiny over there falls flat and somehow manages to trigger landmines _above the trenches._ Boom. Gone. Safe. He took out a whole batch of clankers by falling.”

“It was an accident!” Charm protested. “Just coincidence.”

Rogue wasn't so sure about that. The chances of an explosion like that killing only droids were astronomical. Maybe he _was_ lucky.

“Then they started calling me Lucky Charm,” Charm continued with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Only the second half stuck, thank Jango.”

“You’re welcome,” Switch sang at him with a charming wink.

“Funny.” Charm's voice was dry as Tattooine. “You don’t look like Jango to me.”

“Actually I’m his genetic copy. So checkmate on that one.”

Without a single change of expression, Charm sang back. “If you want me to say thank you, try harder.”

Rogue smiled, but something in his chest was aching. He’d missed this, that’s true. But seeing the two of them (Rowan was still with Doriana and nobody was sure where Crow was hiding) made him remember things he’d rather forget.

Mouse, Rags, Trouble. Jolt and Haze. Captain Daanin.

And Winger.

His brothers, his team, his family. They'd left him behind, left him screaming under a tank until his voice shattered. Either that or they were dead, and Rogue really didn’t know which one is worse.

 _Ah, stop it, Rogue,_ he scolded himself. It was no good thinking morbid thoughts like that. He was luckier than a lot of clones, he knew that.

Though not, perhaps, as lucky as Charm.

Switch lay back, stretching out his long legs and groaning. Rogue tried to ignore a pang of envy and absently rubbed the cold, unfeeling metal of his own false calf.

“So how ‘bout you?” Switch squinted up at Rogue, grinning crookedly. “How’d you get your name? Must’ve been a Jedi with foresight like that.”

“Ah…no.” Rogue looked down with a small, sad smile of his own. “This wasn’t my first name. I had another…once. I was Witcher.”

Charm sat up and tilted his head. “Witcher, huh?”

Despite himself, Rogue flinched at that name. Sounds echoed in his head; the whistle of bombs falling, the thunderous shaking of the ground, his own screams of pain and fear. 

_Witcher! Where are you?_

Eventually those voices had gone away, and his own voice had fallen silent. He chewed on the corner of his lip and looked away, not meeting their eyes.

“It’s Rogue now,” he muttered. “That name is…well. I'm not him anymore. Witcher died under that tank.”

They were both quiet for a minute, heads bowed in respect. They’d all lost people. Lost brothers. They knew - in a way no other being could possibly hope to, they _knew._ It was surprising how much that soothed him.

“Ligara gave me my name,” he said, breaking the silence with a long breath. “Said I was a clone gone rogue. It kinda stuck, like names do.”

Charm shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting lazily. “I like it. S’a good name.”

“Thanks.”

Out of nowhere, Switch hopped to his feet. “Oh, Jango, I just remembered something,” he exclaimed. “You remember when Cat first joined the squad? He was such a scrappy little thing. Wouldn’t talk to us for a week.”

Charm groaned. “He jumped out of his skin if you even touched him, can you believe that? Poor little mite. We still don't know what his nightmares are about.”

Rogue smiled politely, feeling slightly let down. He shouldn’t – it was petty of him, selfish and mean. He shouldn’t need their attention. But some part of him still felt a bit stung that they were all absorbed in their shared _remember-whens_ when he had none. None that didn't make him cry, anyway.

They were laughing now - he’d done it again. Stayed quiet too long, and the conversation moved on without him. Great.

It hit him all at once - the loneliness, the near-despair. Usually he could keep it at bay, but it’d just grown stronger, gnawing at his heart like a living, open wound. It hurt. Physically, in his chest.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. Now was not the time. _Do something!_ he thought furiously.

“Do you want to see him?” Rogue blurted out, and both brothers stopped speaking and turned to him. It was a little disconcerting, after so long away, to see faces so like his, so like each other. Like two mirrors with different angles.

“Cat?” Switch asked hollowly. “Hell fucking yes, we do.”

“I - alright. I can show you the way.” _Way to turn the conversation back to you, you selfish ass,_ his mind sneered. But he was used to ignoring himself.

…..

Charm and Switch made straight for their unconscious brother, which was understandable.

Rogue cast a cursory glance over the younger clone - he looked better today. The cuts were starting to close and his color is healthier – dark like it should be, not that sickly pale greenish color he'd been before.

But it was Ligara that drew his attention. She swayed gracefully in place, her black eyes blinking slowly. He’d never seen her do that before.

“Ligara?” he asked hesitantly. “You alright?”

She startled and stood up straight. “I wasn’t asleep,” she murmured.

“Okay…” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Never said you were, but alright then.”

She didn’t reply; her eyelids were starting to droop closed again and the way she wobbled was seriously concerning. She was going to fall over and smack that bald head on the floor, daft creature.

“Ligara!” he barked, and she stood straight again. 

“What?”

Rogue looked between her and her patient, and it clicked. She was….exhausted. She probably hadn’t been to bed in days, trying to fix this boy. Could Kaminoans do that? He wasn't sure.

“Ligara, go to sleep,” he said gently. Despite their constant arguing, he found he really didn't hate her. And right now she was downright pitiful. “Cat’ll be here in the morning. He’s healing up just fine.”

“But I - no, I can’t. I need to stay with my patient, Rogue.”

He squinted at her. “And what good will you do your patient if you collapse? Oh, _hell,_ Ligara, please go to bed. I am not having Dreu eviscerate me because I let you fall over.”

She actually smiled at him then, a definite first for both of them.

“I suppose,” she says, but glanced back at Cat. “I can’t. I need to stay.”

“Bed,” he said sternly, pointing out the medbay door. “Now.”

She whined - a very, very odd sound, especially from a Kaminoan – and Rogue hid a smile. She reminded him of a baby brother stamping his foot and yelling _I don't wanna!_

Switch looked up, his hand stroking through his brother’s hair. “Hey, mate, you good?” he asked Ligara. “Cause you don’t look so good.”

“Yeah,” Charm agreed with narrowed eyes. “Even longnecks need to sleep - er, Kaminoans! I meant Kaminoans, sorry.”

Ligara rolled her eyes, but she was too tired to take offense. Her long white hands wrung together slightly, an expression of agitation.

“I -”

“Do you want me to call Dreu to carry you to bed?” Rogue demanded, raising an eyebrow as he scowled at her. “Because I will. And she will not be happy.”

“Oh, all right!” she hissed, and turns toward the door. Finally. He heard her mutter something about “insufferable clones,” but shrugged it off. They owed her a free shot for the longneck comment earlier.

The medbay was silent for a little while. And on the bed, Cat stirred.

 


	8. Awakening

 

The soup wasn't finished yet, but the galley already smelled amazing. Doriana gave Rowan a satisfied smile before she brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. “Might need more flavor...” she murmured. There was a beep at her hip; she paused. The soup steamed in front of her, tantalizing, but she poured it out and answered the comm. Something felt important about it.

“Doriana!” Rogue panted, sounding rushed and garbled. “Med-bay. Now. And bring Rowan.”

She raised the stripe above her eye, scoffing as she crossed her arms. “And what exactly are you going on about?”

“Cat,” Rogue said. “He woke up.”

Doriana almost dropped the empty ladle and barely managed to catch it by the handle. She wasn't quite sure why exactly the kid waking up felt like such a huge deal to her, but it was.

Rowan gave her a questioning look, tilting his head sideways like a baby tooka. She didn't have time to notice how cute he was, though. She took a breath to steady herself and bit her lip to hold back a nervous smile.

“Cat’s awake,” she said in a rush, and barely had time to see his eyes widen before she dropped the spoon and turned on her heel, out into the hall in a flurry of skirts. Rowan, she saw, was only a step behind her.

They tore through the halls, barely stopping to open doors. Crow narrowly avoided a head on collision with Doriana, ducking out of the way just in time to let her run past.

"What the-?!” He started to yell after her but fell silent when Rowan grabbed his arm, breathing hard. Doriana felt the pulse of his excitement, saw the glitter in his eyes as he caught his breath.

“Cat.”

That’s all he had to say, and Crow was running with them, too.

 

The med-bay door hisses open quickly - but to Doriana, and to the clones waiting on the other side, it felt endless, agonizing. She strode through, raking the whole room in her gaze before locking her eyes on Rogue.

"Where the frell is Ligara?” she snapped.

“Bed.” Rogue swallowed, looking over at Cat again. He couldn't seem to look away.

“What?!” Doriana swore and crossed her arms. Ligara couldn’t be asleep! What if something went wrong? They needed a Kaminoan!

"She was about to pass out,” Rogue muttered defensively. “I told her to go.”

“ _Ay je mai,”_ Doriana groaned and scrubbed her hand down her face. Apparently it was all on her now. She leaned over Cat, stomach knotting at what she might see.

 

His eyes were glossy like he was still trying to focus them, and a pale sheen of sweat coated his bare skin. His gaze shifted up to Doriana, and locked on her with something almost like recognition.

“General Shaak Ti?” His voice was heartbreakingly weak; he raised a trembling hand to her face. “Y-you have to help me -”

"Shhh,” she murmured, stroking his hair back and holding his hand in hers. “You’ll be okay, Cat. I’m not Shaak Ti and I don’t know who that is, but I promise I’ll help, alright? I just need you to stay calm and lay still. Rowan, get in his line of sight?”

"Rowan’s here?” Cat breathed, straining sideways to find him.

“Right next to you, Cat.” Rowan gently squeezed Cat’s wrist, and he closed his eyes and sighed, but then tensed again, gripping Rowan's arm and looking up at them both in terror.

“T-the Kaminoans-” he stammered, and Doriana felt the stab of fear in his heart at the thought of Ligara. _Aica umbar. Poor child._

“She’s not here, Cat,” Doriana said softly, hand on his back. “She left. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? And Rowan is gonna be next to us the whole time.” 

He sighed, face going slack as he relaxed.

“Don’t leave, Ro,” he muttered. “Don’t leave me alone.”

His other brothers crowded forward, murmuring and clamoring to reassure their - what was the word Rowan had used? - _shiny_ little brother.

She hissed a breath out through her sharp teeth, eyes narrowed. _Alright. Time to use my sister voice._ The one she used to get Draxo and Damyan out of her room when she was little.

“That’s enough!” she barked, and every single clone - except Rogue, that is - froze completely still.

Doriana set one hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at them. “Line up,” she ordered “Against that wall. Not a word from anyone until I can determine if this boy is healthy enough to be awake.”

They moved like the soldiers they were, in unison and perfectly drilled. An awed chorus of “Yes, sir” brought a satisfied smile to Doriana’s lips.

Rogue, however, was staring at his brothers with his arms crossed, torn between amusement and scorn. He’d been around her too long to be impressed by her scary voice, and it showed in the wry twist of his mouth.

“Seriously, guys?” he scoffed. “You’re listening to her?”

“Fuck off, Rogue,” she mumbled absently, examining Cat’s stitches with cool, gentle fingers. They were healing well, and she couldn't see any head trauma, so whatever was going on must be from flashbacks. As she finished her examination he sat up with a grunt, squinting in the bright light.

“What happened?” he asked groggily, yawning. “And where are we?”

“Beam fell on you, Cat,” Rowan said, stepping out of line to put a hand on her shoulder. “The cruiser exploded. We escaped in a pod - and these lovely ladies rescued us.”

Doriana looked down and grinned at being called a ‘ _lovely lady.’_ That description might fit her at a stretch, but if Dreu heard anyone call her that they’d likely get kicked out the nearest airlock while in hyperspace.

Cat blinked, shielding his eyes against the bright lights. “Are we…you know, safe here? Does General Skywalker know where we are?”

There it was again - the uncomfortable problem. Were they ever going to get these soldiers home?

Should they, with the war that was going on? Wouldn't that be abandoning them to death?

Doriana shook her head, tracing the patterns on her lekku. That was not a problem for now - for now, she could answer his first question.

“You’re quite safe here, Cat,” she said.  “So are your brothers. Well, unless pirates decide to raid our spice supplies, but that’s rare in this sector.”

He still seemed groggy, looking down and feeling the edge of his stitches. “I had…such awful dreams,” he murmured. “Faces, and voices…I was so cold…”

Apparently that was all Rowan could take, because he took one step forward to lift his little brother in his arms.

Over Cat’s shoulder, she saw tears glinting on his lashes. “Oh, brother,” he murmured.  “You’re safe. Gods above, we were so worried.”

“R-Rowan,” Cat said, shivering. “Where are the others? Crow? Switch? Charm? Did they…did they make it?”

“We’re here,” Switch said, breaking Doriana’s ‘no talking’ rule. Of course it would be him.“We’re fine, Cat, really.”

“Cat!” Rogue burst out suddenly, and the boy’s head whipped around to face him. He squinted, looking him up and down from his droid leg to his grown-out hair. His eyes widened in shock.  “Are you -  _Witcher?_ Is that you?”

Doriana had dealt with a hell of a lot of wierd shit lately, especially since the clones came on board, but even she wasn't expecting Rogue to lunge forward and hug Cat as soon as Rowan set him down.

“You’re alive?” seemed to be the main question, though there were several garbled ones flying back and forth in a rapid-fire dialog she couldn’t follow. She wasn't even sure it was all in Basic. Finally, with one hand on Rogue’s shoulder, Cat turned to his squad mates with a tearful smile.

“This…this is – Witcher was one of my squad brothers before I got reassigned. They all thought I was dead.”

There was stunned silence for a minute, and then everyone was clamoring to hug Rogue and Cat and celebrate. She’d never seen so many people in one hug at once and it was, quite possibly, the cutest thing she'd seen in her life.

Not counting Rowan’s arse, of course. That was pretty damn cute.

She leaned back on her heels and watched them with a fond smile. All she sensed in this room right now was affection and relief and joy. The contrast to the worry and fear and anger of the past days was soothing.

Then the ship _jolted_ under their feet, throwing several of them to the floor. Metal groaned, then screeched; Doriana caught a flash of anger and fear from Dreu on the bridge. Ligara was still asleep, lucky for her.

Doriana shut her eyes and concentrated. What the hell was going on?

They didn’t have long to wait, as Rowan grabbed her arms and pushed her into the throng of brothers at his back, hands spread protectively behind him. His back muscles stood out with the tension in his shoulders as the door slid open.

“Right,” said the Weequayan who strolled in as if he owned the place. “Hand over the spice crates, friendly-like, and this’ll go peaceful. We won’t even tell the Separatists - or the Republic - that you’re harboring fugitive clones.”

 

 

 


	9. Old Wounds

Every single instinct that'd been drilled into Rowan's head since he was a baby was on high alert, making his jaws clench tight and his heart pound.

 _Protect your brothers,_ he heard with each heartbeat. _Protect. Protect. Protect._ His vision sharpened, and he glared at the weequayan, readying himself to fight. The zabrak and mirialan that stood behind him – they were fighters, to be sure, but the weequayan was the threat. No filthy pirate was getting near Cat or the others. Doriana, however, seemed to have other ideas. As per usual with her.

 "Hokair,” she snarled, stepping out from behind Rowan, and the leonine grace with which she moved reminds him that Togruta are descended from predators. She was mythic, like some ancient goddess come to wreak vengeance on the world.

"Ah!” Hokair says, smiling expansively. “Still as beautiful as when you left me alone with a broken heart, my lovely Doriana.”

 "I’m not  _your_ anything.” The words that fell from her tongue were short, clipped and brutal.

Hokair keeps his smile, however. Rowan’s gaze shifted between them incredulously. _This pirate? With her?_ He shook his head. It was unthinkable. She could do so much better.

 "The engagement ring I got you once said otherwise.”

 Doriana was having none of that, though. "Was that before or after I found you with your tongue down that girl's throat?” She bared her sharp Togruta fangs at the pirate.

Hokair put a hand over his chest and backed up a step. “How you wound me! My heart was still yours!”

“Hah!” Her laugh sounded more like a bark. “That’s bullshit, Hokair. What the kriffing hell do you want?”

“Your spices….and  _you,_  if I can sway it,” he smirked.

She hissed through her teeth, dark blue eyes narrowing. “Get the fuck off my ship before I slaughter you, you pathetic one-eyed worm.”

"You don’t have a blaster darling.” Hokair snickered and examined his filthy fingernails.

“Oh, you think that’s gonna stop me? That’s cute.” The two were circling each othernow, both ready to pounce. 

 _That’s it._ Rowan stepped in then - literally. He moved to stand between them, raising a placating hand to Doriana.

“Gentlemen,” he said to the pirates, voice smooth and even. “Can this not be resolved peacefully?”

“Like hell it can,” Doriana spat. “Get this scum off my ship, Rowan.”

Hokair looked him up and down contemptuously.

“This is what you replace me with, Doriana? This overgrown lab rat?”

Anger sparked in Rowan’s gut; he clenched his fists.  _Stay calm._

“I’m not her -”

The pirate cut him off with a rude snort of laughter. “Right. Sure you’re not, gene scraping. Why else would she keep you around?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched. He took a step forward; just enough to make the pirate back up a bit. Good. 

“Careful,” he breathed, soft and menacing. Rowan was always careful with his anger - more careful than the Jedi were with their lightsabers. He wouldn't likely need much for this, but he let just a hint of a growl color his voice.

“I’ll let that first slight pass, because I'd rather not smear your face into the floor in front of a lady. Insult me or my brothers again and I won't be so generous.”

Hokair threw his head back and laughed, slapping his knee. “Get a load of this fancy-talking clone!” he howled. “Where’d you learn that, clone? Can you do any more tricks?”

Rowan growled, low and deep in his chest.

“Enough, scum! Leave this ship now, in peace, or leave it later in pieces.”

Behind his back Rowan heard soft gasps and a high-five - probably between Cat and Switch. He’d have to speak with them about that later. But for now, he keeps his eyes locked on the pirate, who’s grinning at him.

“Bold words for a clone with a wounded brother to protect,” Hokair said, peering over his shoulder at Cat.

Rowan risked a quick glance back; Cat still looked weak and shaky, but getting stronger. Still, he wasn't even wearing his undershirt, and nobody looks their strongest without a shirt.

Suddenly all the anger in Rowan’s gut – bright and fiery and hot – froze to cold, sharp purpose. His jaws clenched as he took a slow step forward.

“Big mistake,” he snarls. “I can forgive your slight to me, and for her sake, I stood aside when you insulted Doriana. But no one -” he took another threatening step forward, lips drawing back over his teeth as his voice rose to a roar. “ _N_ _obody_ threatens my brothers in front of me!  _GET OUT!”_

The pirates, all three, scrambled backwards away from Rowan in a panic. He didn’t stop, just kept coming toward them.

“Leave!” he snarled. “Leave while you still draw breath, scum!”

The Zabrak growled, but Hokair grabbed his tunic as he backed away. “Leave it, Sadru,” he grumbled. “We know when we’re not wanted.”

“OI!” From down the hall came an angry shout, and the sound of a blaster cocking. And suddenly the pirates were even more keen to leave, stumbling in their haste to get to the airlock.

Lekku swinging behind her, Dreu bared her teeth and pointed her blaster at them. “Didn’t I tell you never to bother my sister again, you barely sentient walking sewage? Get the fuck off my ship before I get really angry.”

“Of course, of course!” Hokair lifted his hands defensively above his face, backing toward the docking ring and the entrance to their craft. “Captain Aurren sends her regards, Dreu. She says to tell you it’s your move.”

“Yeah?” Dreu narrowed her eyes, blaster still cocked. “Well, you tell that chiss that her ‘move’ failed epically, as usual, and she better hope we don’t retaliate.”

With a sardonic twist of his lips, Hokair saluted her and stepped back into his ship. The airlock swirled closed.

Suddenly Rowan was exhausted. He huffed out a breath and stumbled back against the wall, massaging his aching temples. _Why do I do these things?_ he wondered tiredly.

He felt a cool hand laid gently on his forearm, and opened his eyes.

“Rowan?” Doriana’s voice was laced with concern, her night-blue eyes wide. Rowan managed a tired smile.

“I’m alright,” he said, standing back to attention. There was no need, but it felt natural and almost comforting. “Forgive the outburst, if you will.”

Dreu, satisfied that her domain was hers again, wandered back to the bridge with a proud little smile.

Doriana was still giving him a very skeptical look, and her hand, he noticed, hadn’t left his arm. It felt good. He didn’t want her to move it.

“That was incredible,” she murmured, voice low as she leaned closer. She smelled like spices and flowers. “You were like - I don’t know. I was even a little afraid of you.”

Rowan winced. She was  _afraid_ of him? The thought felt like a sliver of glass in his heart. 

“Please forgive me,” he said. “I just - he threatened Cat, and you, and I-”

“Rowan.” She crossed her arms, her voice stern. “Rowan, stop. You were wonderful.”

He couldn't help repeating in his mind how lovely his name sounded on her tongue. He tilted his head, brow furrowed. “I was?”

The corner of Doriana’s lip lifted in a smirk. “Hokair had it coming. And besides, I don’t scare so easy.”

He smiled faintly, trying to ignore his sudden desire to stroke her cheek and trace the white stripes on her face.

“Aye. That you don’t.” He’s quiet for a minute, and then met her eyes and spoke again.  “I just don’t like getting that angry. Look at me - I  _must_ be in control, or people could be hurt.”

She said nothing, staring fearlessly into his eyes. He was mesmerized by hers - luminous, dark and deep and at the same time, full of light. He could almost believe she could see his future.

“You’re a good man, Rowan. Your anger won’t change that.”

 _I think I love you,_ he thought. He didn’t say it. She didn’t need a clone hanging on her arm. He dipped his head to hide the heat of his face.“Thank you, Doriana.”

She grinned, showing her sharp teeth. “All I did was speak the truth, Ro.” 

The nickname sent a thrill through his stomach, and -

“Aaaaaaaaaarrrrggh!”

Rowan’s head snapped up at the bone-chilling screech from behind him. He turned on his heel toward the back wall.

Cat was curled in a corner, cowering against the wall with his arms raised defensively. His little brother, insensible with fear. Rowan rushed to him and wraps his arms around him, stroking his hair back the way he used to when Cat was new and small and scared.

“It’s alright, Cat,” he murmured. “You’re safe, brother, I promise. You’re safe.”

Cat’s breath was rapid, and the Kaminoan Ligara stepped closer anxiously. 

“Careful,” she said softly. “You’ll tear the stitches again!”

“Please,” Cat whimpered, clutching Rowan’s arms. “Don’t let her see me, I can’t go back -”

“She’s a friend,” he said quietly. “A doctor. We’re nowhere near Kamino, I promise.”

Slowly Cat’s grip on his arm relaxed, and his shuddered breathing evened out. He looked at Ligara suspiciously.

“A friend?” His voice was hoarse from screaming. 

Ligara nodded gracefully. “I hope so, Cat.”

“You - you know my name?”

She gave him a faint smile. “Your brothers worry.”

Cat stood up, slowly, still shaking. “I - I’m sorry,” he says. 

And the next phrase that came out of his mouth was classically Cat, bringing a welcome grin to Rowan’s face. 

“Got any food?”

 


	10. New Scars

Rogue settled down on the floor, his metal leg held out straight in front of him (the only straight thing about him, he thought wryly) and his back braced against Cat's med-cot. Ligara had absolutely _insisted_ Cat stay sitting down while he ate, and this might've been the only room where everyone all fit at one time.

Everyone was eating now, the med-bay quiet as they devoured Doriana's soup with enthusiasm Rogue had only ever seen in clones used to dry rations. Rouge took a big spoonful and sipped it thoughtfully. It wasn't any different from her normal soup, but he'd gotten spoiled by a year of real food, so he couldn't really judge.

“Karking sithspit!” Cat laughed. His eyes went wide with shocked delight. “What is _in_ this?!”

Doriana blinked slowly, lifting the stripe above her eye with amusement. “Uh….food?”

Cat didn’t answer – he was too busy draining the rest of his bowl, broth spilling out the sides to drip down his chin.

“Cat,” Rowan scolded gently, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Eat politely, we’re guests here.”

Cat set down the bowl, and his grin was just as unrepentant as Rogue remembered. “Sorry, Row. But it’s _good.”_

“Ah, give the kid a break,” Charm said, leaning on the doorpost with his arms crossed. His expression was soft, happier than Rogue had ever seen him. “He’s not eaten for days, Rowan.”

“Days?” Cat echoed, tilting his head with a troubled look. “What’s - where are we anyway?”

“Hyperspace, currently,” Doriana said. “For now, we’re headed home.”

Cat’s face went pale. “Home…not -”

“No,” Ligara said gently. “Not there. Trust me, Cat, I have no desire to see the Planet of Storms again.”

His shoulders slumped down with relief. Rogue remembered, years ago, the way Cat had winked at him as he left the bunks that night with Mouse, so jaunty and unafraid. Part of him wondered what had happened to make the kid so….fragile. But the rest didn’t want to ask.

“So…Coruscant?”

Rogue barked out a laugh. “If I wanted to be beaten for deserting and dragged back into the GAR with one leg, there are ways to do it that waste less fuel. Coruscant is far, far away.”

Cat looked down sharply at him, wearing a strange, sad little smile. “Alright, Witcher,” he said. “Where are we going then?”

Although he flinched at his old name, it didn’t hurt like it would've with anyone else. Back when they were all shinies, he hadn't known Cat for long before Trouble replaced him, but if Rogue had to lose Winger and the rest of Topple Squad, it's only fair the universe pay him back somehow.

“Asfaloth,” Doriana spoke up. The way her voice curled around the name made it clear to everyone she was speaking of a place she loved dearly. Rogue doesn't blame her, although there are easier planets to call home.

Rowan hadn’t looked away from her yet. If the ARC thought he was being subtle, he was sadly mistaken. “How far is it?” Rowan asked softly, staring at her like they were the only two people in the universe.

“Not sure.” She shrugged, her glittering necklaces jingling. “Ask Dreu if you want specifics.”

Rogue looked up at Cat - the whisker tattoos on his face and the healing bruises over his ribs. It was almost like looking right into his own past. And he decided that this was fair payment.

…………..

_Someone was screaming._

_Everything around Doriana spun wildly, flames reaching high to lick at the air. Breath rasping hot in her throat, her eyes raked around the burning room for a way out. Where was the fucking door? She stumbled forward, and in her panic almost missed the Togruta woman hunched over on the wooden floor. Her montrals were singed grey by the smoke._

_Doriana crouches down to the woman._

“ _Hey! Come on, get up! We have to go now.” She tugged on the woman’s arm. With a mighty groan, a huge wooden beam crashed down toward them. Doriana screamed and pulled the woman out of the way, shielding her from the shower of sparks that rose._

_Her throat stinging with smoke, Doriana peered upward through the new hole in the roof, unspeakable dread in the pit of her stomach. The roof was going to fall in. It was going to fall!_

“ _P_ _lease! We have to get out!” She shook the other woman’s shoulders, trying to pull her to her feet._

_The woman finally responded - but not in the way Doriana was expecting. She jerked up and grabbed Doriana’s arms with an iron grip, pulling her down toward the floor where the smoke is thickest. Flipping her onto the ground, the older woman pinned her against the hot floor. Doriana looked up at her captor - and a scream of horror ripped from her throat._

_Her dead mother held her down, her once bright blue eyes now solid black like voids. Her skin was cracked and burned like old leather._

_Stay, Dori,” Elessa crooned. That famously beautiful voice was, horribly, still perfect. Her sharp nails dug into Doriana’s skin.“Stay, my little nightingale.”_

_Elessa reached out a hand, ruined by the fire, to stroke Doriana’s cheek. She jerked away and -_

Sat up in her bunk, gasping and panting. Around her, the ship’s engines hummed - a calming, familiar sound. Soft breathing fills the room.

 _A dream. It was just a dream._ She pulled at the end of her lekku nervously. Beside her, doubling up on bunks to make room for their guests, Rogue stirred and sat up on his elbow.

“Dori?” he hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Go back to sleep, Rogue, it’s nothing.” She didn’t need him worrying about her. She ran a hand through his hair before standing and picking her way through the maze of sleeping clones to the ‘fresher.

The door hissed softly open and she leaned tiredly on the sink. Her own eyes, deeper and darker blue than Elessa’s had ever been, stared back at her.

“ _Ay je mai,”_ she mumbled, scrubbing a hand down her face. “I look like shit.”

She shivered; a sheen of sweat coated her dark red skin, chilling her.

Why _that_ dream, why now?

She huffed. It didn’t matter. After splashing the coldest water she could stand on her face, she shut the light off, tiptoed through the sleeping bodies again, and settled back down beside Rogue, determined to sleep.

……….

On any other day, it would’ve been nothing. A small squabble, really, easily soothed. Just Rogue and Ligara snapping at one another again.

But today? After what had happened last night? It was pretty damn difficult being the _only_ reasonable one on this bloody ship.

And so, with the fight smoothed over, she stalked through the corridors of the ship with single-minded determination. The clanking hiss of the old doors to the engine room suited her mood - rusted, frayed, nearly broken.

 _For fuck’s sake, Dori,_ she snapped at herself. _Get it together already, and stop being so dramatic._

Dreu wasn't there at the moment, which suited Doriana just fine. Sure, the engine room could be…unsettling. It was half-lit since most of the lights needed replacing, full of strange sounds and stranger shadows. But nobody came in here, except Dreu when she had the time. And so finally, Doriana was alone.

 

Silk skirts swishing as she steps in and closed the door, Doriana found a hidden place and slid to the ground, gritting her teeth.

She would _not_ cry. Crying was just not a thing Doriana did. Not since Elessa's funeral. But to her horror, her eyes were stinging, and her throat was thick, and her face crumpled -

Ah, fuck it all, she was crying. She swallowed and curled up against the engine, perching her arms on her knees and letting the tears fall and blur her vision. “It’s just an argument,” she hissed to herself. “What is wrong with me?”

Fresh tears fell; she bit her hand to keep from crying out with the sobs that shook her body. She could not be found. Things would just unravel if they know she was crying.

Dreu was the angry one, who'd ask who she's supposed to punch for this; Ligara was too calm sometimes and patronizing at others, Rogue was skittish and likely to react by snarling, even if he didn’t mean it. If Doriana wasn’t their steady rock, the voice of reason…

Oh, goddess. She was still crying. Why couldn’t she stop? As she squeezed her eyes shut a nightmare vision flashed behind her eyelids: her mother’s face, badly burned with blacked-out eye sockets, gnarled hands reaching for her.

Doriana’s eyes flew open, and she gasped out loud - a sound, even to her, that was sharp with pain.

Then - a new sound. A rusty creak, a hiss. Light poured across the floor, falling on her feet as steady footsteps came closer. A deep, gentle voice, soothing and promising peace.

“Doriana?”

…….

She let out another sharp gasp, scrambling away from Rowan to hide her face, and his heart twisted with pain. He crouched down beside her.

“Forgive me,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but….are you alright?”

“Fine,” she said shortly, her back to him. Her voice wobbled when she speaks. “I’m fine, Rowan, it’s okay. You can go.”

_Not bloody likely._

“Doriana,” he says. He loves the way her name sounded in his mouth, like a prayer almost. “You’re not alright, are you?”

Her shoulders trembled, but when he put a hand on one she flinches away.

“Sorry,” he muttered, taking his hand back. “I’m sorry, really.”

“I’m not fine.” Her voice is flat. “But nobody will want to see that.”

Again, the sliver of glass in Rowan’s heart twisted painfully. “I see you,” he whispered. “I saw. I’m here.”

She sniffed and looked up at him, face soaked with tears. Her blue eyes glittered, and even now, Rowan couldn't help noticing her loveliness.

“Rowan,” she murmurs. “You’re a good man, from what I’ve seen, and I mean this in the best way, but I…I barely know you.”

He swallowed the hurt in his throat – it was entirely unwarranted and probably unwanted.

“Fair point,” he admitted. “But I don’t need to know you to care. To see how you’re in pain….is it not my purpose to end suffering? In the Republic, the galaxy at large - nobody said I can’t do it on a smaller scale.”

She let out a bitter laugh, head leaned back as she looked at the ceiling. “You’re almost _too_ good, Rowan. I don’t deserve anything like that.”

“What?” He frowned and leaned forward. “No…no, of course you do. You -”

“I’m not worth your concern.” She bit the words out of the air. “Trust me, Rowan, you’ll want to back off before you get too close.”

“But I don’t,” he murmured. “I don’t want to back off…..” He was silent for a bit, considering the Togruta woman before him. “Tell me, _mesh’la,_ what have you done to deserve such pain?”

“Too much,” she muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest. “You don’t even want to know. Just trust me, I deserve this.”

“No,” he says again, with a stubborn lift of his chin. “No, I can’t believe that. Living beings, all of us - we have the gift of free will, and all we have to do to deserve redemption is ask for it.”

“I wish that were true.” She turned to face him, eyes bright with some inner fire. “I’m not just a con artist, Rowan - I’m no Jedi, but I can sense more of the universe than most. And she is not pleased with a woman who tore out a man’s eye in a fit out jealous rage.”

Rowan took in her answer for a minute, considering.

“Hokair?” he asked, thinking of the pirate’s eye patch. She nodded miserably, and it took everything he had not to wrap her in his arms and hold her to his chest right then. Like she'd said, she barely knew him. 

 _Careful, Rowan,_ he thought. _Must you do this? Must you throw your heart at the feet of the first sentient who glances your way?_

Doriana’s lower lip trembled; she hid her face as fresh tears fell. He wanted to kiss them away.

“Rowan, leave me,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve your pity.”

It seemed to Rowan then that his heart whispered back to him: _Yes. I must._

“Deserve?” he murmured, and cautiously lays a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t move away this time. “ _Cyar'ika,_ people don’t deserve things like that. Pity. Love. Forgiveness.” His hand massaged her shoulder, her skin cool and smooth under his hand, and he hoped she wouldn't notice the affectionate Mando’a terms he was calling her.

“We don’t deserve these things, any of us,” he continued. “People, well, we’re a messy lot. Restless, greedy, selfish at times. We can be petty and angry and violent. Deserve? No. We don’t deserve things like that. But it is ours to accept what is given and  _try_ to deserve it.”

She lets out a sound, half-laugh, half sob. “You are wiser than you look, Rowan.”

“Do I look stupid then?” he cracked a grin and winked at her, and she gave him a watery smile in return. “It may not be mine to forgive you for that act - but if it were, if it were my eye - I would. I would forgive you.”

She rolled her eyes and wiped her cheeks dry with the back of her hand. “You would, wouldn’t you? Like I said. Too good for me.”

“Wouldn’t that be my call?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re impossible.”

“Indeed.” He stood up, one fluid movement, and offered her his hand. “Come, Doriana. No matter what you’ve done, nobody deserves to weep alone beneath an engine.”

She took his hand, and stood up without taking her eyes from his. She still looked shaken, rather fragile for a woman with such lethal teeth. On a sudden impulse, he drew her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her and laying her head on his chest.

“I don’t care what the universe says,” he whispered fiercely. “You deserve to be be happy.”

She didn’t answer for a minute, but sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You’re a remarkable man, Rowan. There’s more to you than I’d realized.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Mhm.” Her full lips twisted up in a smirk, and she looked him up and down with deliberate slowness. “Maybe a _lot_ more than I realized.

Cheeks burning red, he smiled and took her by the hand.

“Come,” he said again, though he wasn't sure why she looked like she wanted to laugh when he said it. “The others will suspect something if we keep this up.”

“Let them,” she said boldly. But she followed him out into the corridor anyway.

“Oi. You two.” Dreu’s voice called from down the corridor. She strode toward them, a lug wrench the length of her arm in one hand.

“We’re almost home, Dori. Might want to keep apart from this one -” she jerked her head toward Rowan - “when we go meet Dad. You know how he is.”

Rowan tilted his head, confused. “Why should she…oh. Oh, no, it isn’t - we aren’t - that is, we - I…”

“Whatever,” Dreu said amiably, heading for her beloved engines. “Just stay out of trouble, yeah? And try not to fall off the cliffs.”

Doriana muttered something under her breath in a foreign language - quick, sly, and (from the Twi’lek’s outraged gasp) directed at Dreu.

“You better  _not_ tell Dad that me and Ligara got married!”

 


	11. Home (Sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! People are reading this thing! My tiny heart can't take it omg :0 I haven't left a note in several chapters, so hi! Glad you're enjoying it so far ^-^ Leave a comment/kudos if you like it!!  
> Also - there are lapses in tense (present vs. past) because I'm editing each chapter from my Tumblr as I update here and while I do have a co-author, we do not have a beta reader so I miss stuff sometimes.

The bridge was quiet when Dreu reclaimed her spot in the pilot’s seat, old synth-leather creaking as she sat down. With the engine prepped and ready for when they enter Asfaloth’s atmosphere, she could finally relax and pilot her ship. She knew this ship, knew its every secret and glitch and odd little complaint. The  _Ebinor_ had been her best friend for years, and it was good to have time with just her and her old friend again.

But of course, it was not to be – no rest for the wicked and all that. The door slid open with a soft hiss. Dreu’s hands clenched on the arms of her seat as she turns, baring her teeth. “What the fuck do you want-”

“ _Vakto, nata saliss_ _._ ” Doriana spoke in Lothic, their home tongue. It was a much harsher language than Basic, and almost impossible to master if you hadn't grown up with it. _“Laek ta paletka.”_

Dreu relaxed. Slightly. _Easy, my sister,_ Doriana had said. _It's just me._

“ _What’s on your mind? You and Rowan in my engine room?_ ” Dreu smirked, tapping her fingers on her cheek.

“Ay, _no. Nothing happened!_ ” Doriana huffed and flicked Dreu's lekku. “ _Nosy witch!”_

Dreu snickered, crossing her arms. Doriana was fooling nobody, not with the stripes of her lekku so darkened. The first time she'd seen her sister blush like that was when they were teenagers and Dori had made out with Aurren on the lookout roof. She hadn't seen her this flustered since before Hokair, but Dreu wasn't going press the matter. Not yet, anyway.

“ _What’s on your mind then?”_ With her sister, there was an ease in her voice few other sentients got to hear.

Doriana looked down, biting her lip, and Dreu leaned forward. It wasn't like her sister to be reluctant to speak - not between them. They could always talk to each other, about anything. After what happened with Hokair, it had been Dreu who found Doriana sobbing in the shower and brought her home safely.

 

“Is it about what woke you up last night?” Dreu asked, keeping her voice as gentle as she could.

Doriana looked up sharply at her. “ _How-_?”

“Rogue,” Dreu says, and Doriana groaned and pulled on her lekku in agitation. Dreu ignored her and searched her sister’s face. 

“ _Are you okay? You don’t usually have nightmares. What was it about?”_

Doriana hesitated just for a second, before she looked up to meet Dreu’s eyes. “ _Mother. It was about Mother.”_

Dreu inhaled sharply, pressing her lips together.“ _Which mother? And w_ _hat happened?”_

 

~~~~~~

Rogue caught Rowan outside the galley, looking somewhat dazed. He stopped, tapping his foot. Should he even ask? He shrugged. Why not? He didn't have anything better to entertain him.

“You away on med leave, vod?” he asked with a crooked grin, waving his hand in front of Rowan's face.

Rowan startled, his eyes flashing alarm before he relaxed. “Ah – sorry. Hello, Rogue.”

“Hey.” Rogue gave an easy smile, joining the ARC trooper on the wall. “You’re wandering again, eh? Where's your mind off to this time?”

"That is an excellent question, brother,” Rowan sighed. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, hesitating. “I…have a question for you."

Ah, now it was getting interesting. He had a pretty good idea of what he'd ask. It reminded him of years ago, of the gossip that flew so quickly through the cadets’ barracks on Kamino. 

“Go for it,” he said easily, hands in his pockets.

"Ah, well….” Rowan swallowed, shifting his weight. “Doriana has been - she’s -" 

"She’s hitting on you?” Rogue cut in. He would _not_ smile, or laugh. This was serious to Rowan, and Rogue didn’t want to insult him by making light of it.

 

"I suppose so, yes.” He sighed, pulling his braid over his shoulder and worrying the end of it, twisting it around his fingers. “But does it - does it _mean_ anything? Is this something that happens for everyone, or is it rare for her…?”

Rogue couldn’t help it then; he laughed. Oh, he was a jackass for laughing, he knew that. But poor Rowan's distressed face, like a sad puppy, only made him laugh harder.

“Do you like it, vod?” he asked finally, crossing his arms.

Rowan's face flushed. “W-what? I don't -”

“The flirting?” Rogue said, raising an eyebrow. “You know – the comments and and the looks and how she's taking literally any excuse to touch you?”

Rowan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, chewing the corner of his lip. "I- yes. I do like it. It’s…odd. It's hard enough figuring out what's normal civilian conduct and what's flirting to begin with, especially for me. And on top of that, one second she looks like all she can think about is kissing me and the next she tells me to go away because she's just fine.”

Rogue thought for a minute. Rowan did seem like he was running on a bit of a different frequency than most vode, so the subtleties of civilian relationships would be difficult for him to pick up on.

“Doriana has a gift for defusing things. Fights, arguments, the whole lot. She’s practically a politician. I'd say if she's defusing these little moment you two keep having, she's nervous about getting too close. Probably doesn't want to hurt you. Beyond that…” Rogue shrugged. “Dreu would know better than me."

 Rowan nodded. "Thank you. I think. Speaking of the captain, I was going to ask when we can expect to land." 

 Rogue jerked his head toward the bridge. "Then let’s go ask." 

 ~~~~~~

 _"Ay je mai. No wonder you hid away in the engine room.”_ Dreu drummed her fingers on the bridge console. “ _What do you think it means?”_

Doriana scoffs and rolled her eyes. _"Hell if I know. It might not mean anything. It was just a dream.”_

_"Last time you had a dream like that we pulled Rogue out from under a tank. The time before that- Elessa died. Coincidence?”_

_"You know I don’t believe in coincidences,”_ Doriana huffed, tracing her lekku stripes with her arms crossed over her chest.

 _"Exactly.”_ Dreu shifted to face her sister, her voice lowered in concern. “ _Dori, If we need to warn Dad -"_

……

"Are we interrupting some sister gossip that’ll get a blaster thrown at us?” Rogue laughed as he and Rowan stepped onto the bridge.

"No, but I’ll throw it anyway,” Dreu said snidely, turning back to the controls. Doriana glanced back and nodded a greeting. Her eyes were on Rogue for about two seconds before they shifted to Rowan with a brilliant smile.

Rogue rolled his eyes. There was no _way_ he and Winger were ever that obvious. Or that irritating.

“When we hittin’ planet-side?” he asked, his arms crossed as he tapped his foot with soft clinks.

“In less than an hour, _ketki_ ,” Dreu growled. “You gonna shut up or do I have to rip off your other leg? I am _trying_ to fly here.”

 "Dreu! Stop being a _juian_!” Doriana scolded and flicked Dreu's lekku. She snarled and swatted her hand away.

“ _Maliit fesan! Aica umbar, ketharin saliss!”_

Rogue leaned against the back of Dreu’s pilot seat, watching the sisters. And Rowan, who stood at attention like a proper soldier just behind Doriana in the co-pilot seat. He snorted and rolled his eyes again. Was he the only one who noticed how Rowan's eyes lovingly traced her stripes, or how she was leaning back so she could feel his breath on her montrals? Ridiculous.

~~~~~~

"Droppin’ from hypo, here we go.” Dreu was practically purring, her lips curled up to show her sharp teeth. It was good to see her enjoying something so much.

They dropped out of hyperspace, the whole ship shaking and rattling. Rowan grabbed the chair in front of him to steady himself and curled his fingers into the synth-leather. Dreu muttered in Lothic, forcing the ship into a barrel roll to steady it out.

 _"Ay je mai!”_ Dreu uses the same curse Rowan has heard Doriana use, but Dreu said it sharper, like something breaking under your heel. Doriana had breathed the words, like she was pushing smoke from her lungs into a ring. The ship jolted again as they passed through the clouds, and Rowan forgot about linguistics as the back of the chair hit his gut and knocked the air out of him.

A few tumultuous minutes later the ship finally landed. Rowan took a slow breath, cautiously standing away from the chair.

“Is it safe?” he asked, flexing his stiff fingers. He’d had quite a grip on the back of the seat.

Dreu glanced back at him with a look that was almost amused. “Safe? It’s Asfaloth.”

Rowan stared back blankly. “Is that meant to mean something, or…”

Doriana let out a peal of laughter and reached for Rowan’s hand. “She means nothing is ever very safe here,” she explained. “But for now? Yes. It’s safe.”

The landing ramp descended, letting in a burst of iron-scented air and green tinged sunlight. Rowan barely had time to inhale before a streak of blue, yelling wildly, launched up the ramp and into Rowan’s arms.

 

A very confused Nautolan child blinked up at him, as he looked down at the boy in equal confusion.

“Hang on,” the boy says, squinting at him. “You aren’t Rogue. Either that or I had too many urchins again.”

“Not the last time I checked,” he answered, setting him down. “I’m Rowan.”

“Thanks for clearing that up,” the child says dryly, and turns to Doriana. “I am _so_ telling dad you picked up more strays!”

“Oi. Be nice, twerp.” Dreu flicked the back of his head in passing, on her way down the ramp with a crate perched on one shoulder. Ligara followed her, swathed in cloth from wrist to ankle with a wide-brimmed hat on her head.

“Damyan! They are not strays.” Doriana crossed her arms, sounding almost indignant about it. “They’re….refugees.”

“They?” Damyan blinked and whistles slowly as the others filed into the room, and past him down the ramp - Charm, Switch, Cat, Crow. “Dori, you got some explainin’ to do.”

“Why do you assume it was me?”

Damyan grinned; like his two sisters, his teeth were wickedly sharp. Rowan decided it must be an Asfaloth thing. The nautolan boy looked between Rowan and Doriana several times, a smirk growing slowly on his face.

“Might’ve been someone else to start with,” he said, mimicking his sister as he crossed his arms. “But now? It’s on you.”

“ _Ay je mai,”_ she groaned, rolling her eyes. “You are such a pain. Go tell dad we’re home, yeah? I’ve got things to do.”

“Sure,” Damyan said easily, putting his hands in his pockets. Then he winked at Rowan. “See you ‘round, Things.”

Rowan’s entire face went white, and then scarlet; he swallowed, trying to speak, but words had deserted him.

“Damyan!” Doriana hissed and swatted at him, and the boy took off down the ramp howling with laughter.

Three totally different species, he thought, but the family resemblance is very clear anyway.

~~~~~~

“Where’s my girls?”

The voice was shouted from within the garage that perched precariously over the edge of a vast red-stone cliff. Switch could smell the tang of rust and salt from up here, and it was a pretty damn far jump.

Sithspit, this planet is beautiful. Okay, yeah, maybe it wasn't Alderaan or Naboo. But there was a sharpness to this place, a devil-may-care wildness that reminded Switch very much of the sisters who rescued them. The sea, far below, was vast and green and frightening, stretching to the horizon.

Shaking his head, he drew his attention away from the view (one he’d have loved to paint some time) and to the twi'lek who strode purposefully over the grass with his arms outstretched and a wide fanged grin.

Switch had never had a father, or anything like one (except maybe Rowan, but he was really more an annoying older brother). But if he'd had to come up with a mental image of one, it’d be pretty damn close to this guy. He was older – Switch couldn’t tell how old exactly, but older – with a bit of a gut, and strong arms, and kind eyes lined with faint smile lines. His overalls, hands, even his face were covered with smudges of black grease, and the rag that hung from his front pocket was so blackened it had no business cleaning anything.

 

He was shorter than Doriana, much shorter than Ligara, who looked just about as happy as he’d ever seen a Kaminoan be. The family spoke in Lothic, rapid and fiery, and the words flew faster than Switch could follow. But the two sisters – and Ligara – had all been hugged at least twice and kissed several times.

Alone of the brothers here, Rogue seemed relaxed and comfortable as he stepped forward to shake the twi'lek’s hand.

“Great to see you again, Draake,” he grinned, and then made a strangled sound as Draake just about crushed his rib cage in a hug.

“Air,” he gasped. “Need – air!”

Laughing heartily, Draake let go and took in the rest of the clones with a questioning look to his daughters.

“Friends of yours, Hummingbird?” he asked. Dreu snorted and rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. For all her viciousness, she definitely does love her family.

“Sir,” Rowan said, nodding to Draake as respectfully as he would to any Jedi general. “My brothers and I were left behind after a battle, and would be dead if not for the courage of your children. You have our gratitude.”

“Dead?” Draake echoed, narrowing his eyes. He looked them all over again, each one of them, but his eyes lingered on Rowan and how close he was standing to Doriana.

 _This guy misses nothing,_ Switch thought, tapping his fingers on his thigh.

“Come inside,” Draake said finally. “Dreu, your guests look starving. What have you been doing?”

“Don’t ask me,” she said with a sly look at her sister. “Our cook was distracted.”

“So were the pilot and medic,” Doriana shot back, grinning. “With certain arrangements for a certain ceremo- Ow! Hey!” She cut off with an indignant laugh as Dreu elbowed her in the stomach.

“Dinner table,” Draake said, giving both of his daughters a look. “All of you.”

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies!! Really proud of this chapter and how it turned out. Only one more to re-write after this and then I'm writing as I go - but I do have the rest of the chapters outlined! Comment/kudos if you like it!! <3333   
> Also - I maaay possibly make a face/voicecast post on my Tumblr and link it here if anyone's interested :D

The dinner table took up most of one corner of the kitchen, a large circle of some native wood, polished and worn smooth, with mismatched chairs surrounding it. Some of them had been scratched or carved, and at least one had been broken and put back together. It was kind of homely, in a lived-in sort of way. Not something Rowan had ever had much of; it gave him a strange, almost nostalgic feeling. Which made no sense at all. How could you be nostalgic for something you'd never had in the firsts place?

The whole house was like that - patched together in ways that shouldn’t work, but actually made things stronger. Cheerful, fierce and unapologetically chaotic. The flagstone floor, rough and unpolished, dully reflected the light from a dozen different types of lightbulbs in the homemade fixture on the ceiling. The air was warm and full of laughter and the scent of unknown spices.

“Damyan Erithuda, I know you do not have those damned urchins at my dinner table,” Draake’s voice was deceptively lazy; anyone in the immediate vicinity could hear him perfectly. The twi'lek man didn’t even turn from where he and Doriana were preparing a meal.

Rowan turned to look at the nautolan boy across from him, who hurriedly stuffed what looked like a ball of red spines into his sleeve.

“Nope!” he squeaked, his head-tresses swaying as he violently shook his head.

“He’s lying.” A tiny gungan wandered into the kitchen and spoke with a totally deadpan voice. He couldn’t have been older than eleven or twelve, and Rowan had yet to hear his name.

Damyan screeched, outraged. “Dar'go! Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”

Dar'go rolled his eyes on their eyestalks and turned to Ligara, and from what Rowan could hear they were talking about some kind of xenobiology. On Ligara’s other hand, Dreu was talking to a younger zabrak man. At first glance it looked like a heated argument, but both of them were smiling.

Then there was Jop squad, all sitting close together in another corner. They spoke among themselves, not wanting to intrude on the family reunion. Rogue- very unlike his brothers- seemed at home. A large, fat tooka was curled up in his lap and was reading something off the datapad he’d grabbed off the ship. It was a very…open atmosphere, but Rowan couldn’t shake the feeling that Draake was watching them.

 _Making sure we won’t hurt his children_ , he thought. _He doesn’t know us._

Doriana bumped her hip against her father and spun around him with her bright silk skirts flaring out around her knees, laughing as she did. Rowan stared, mesmerized for a moment. She looked so perfect, smiling openly with all her sharp teeth on display and her night-blue eyes flashing. He’d never seen her look so relaxed. Would she ever smile at him like that?

Abruptly he turned his face away and stared at the scuffed floor. She was in her home, surrounded by her family. He didn’t belong here, did he? No. What right did he have to intrude on her life like that? He shouldn’t be thinking like that, shouldn’t stare at her like some lovesick puppy. As quietly as he possibly could, Rowan stood up and edged toward the door. Maybe a walk would clear his head, let him think sensibly for once in his life. He needed some air, that was all. He wasn’t running away. Right?

His hand was on the doorknob, just about to turn it, when he felt her arms around his waist.

He turned, breath catching in his throat – she was closer than he’d expected, and they were face to face now. That look on her face was killing him. A lift of the white stripe above her eye, a slight smirk, a tilting up of her chin. A question. A challenge.

“Going somewhere, _nalis_?” she murmured, and he was close enough to see the dimple in her cheek as her smile widened. She rested one hand on top of his, on the door handle. Her skin was cool.

“I – no. Yes. Nowhere.” Damn it all, why did he forget how to speak when she looked at him like that? He had a functional knowledge of a dozen languages and when he met her eyes… “Nothing.”

“I see.” She hadn’t actually laughed at him, but she was definitely laughing. He could see it in the sparkle of her eyes. “Going nowhere. Can I come?”

“Neither of you is _coming_ anywhere.” Rowan jumped and swore under his breath at Draake’s voice right behind his shoulder. What was with this family and sneaking up on people?

“Sir,” he said as he hurriedly stepped away from Doriana. “We – I – nothing was -”

“Relax, Dad,” she laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “What Rowan is trying to say is that we were just going to go for a walk, so I can show him the cliffs.”

Draake crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. It would be very, very difficult, Rowan thought, to lie to this man. “That’s great. But no, you’re not. It’s dinner time.”

“Yes sir,” Rowan said, and barely stopped himself from snapping a salute. As he made his way to the round table where everyone was sitting down, he could’ve sworn he heard Doriana sigh in frustration. But that was probably just wishful thinking.

…..

He had no idea what he was eating, but it was delicious. Well, to be fair, everything that wasn’t dry rations tasted amazing. But Rowan hadn’t known that food could be art. Or poetry.

Everything was spicy, full of flavor and color, or sweet and cooling. He didn’t talk much at the table, more than content to eat and listen and watch as the others enjoyed themselves. And they did. His boys were much more relaxed now. He could even see Cat eyeing the ceiling beam above them to see if he could make the jump.

He glanced around the table again, noticing where each person was and who they were talking to.

Good. Everyone seemed happy, and sufficiently distracted.

Now, he had nothing on Cat, or Crow. And he could never hope to match any of the Erithudas in sneaking up on people.

But for someone so tall and strong, Rowan was capable of moving with quite remarkable stealth. He eased his chair back slowly from the table and stood up. When he was sure nobody would notice, he slipped away from the table and out the door into the night.

The air smelled like rust and salt - and something he couldn’t name, but the taste of it on his tongue made him think of lightning. The sky was rich dark green and blooming with stars now He’d probably been to at least a few of them. There were three moons in the sky – one silver, one blue, one green. He didn't know their names. Rowan’s breath fogged in the air, not from cold but from the mist over the ocean far below. He could hear it moving, the endless sighing of waves, the pull of tides.

If he wasn’t careful, Rowan could easily fall in love with this place. _Home._ He hadn't spoken, but the taste of the word was on his tongue.

He sighed and pulled his braid over his shoulder to undo it and comb his fingers through his long hair. That always helped him focus.

Were they ever going back to the GAR? And did he want to? He had to answer that, and fast, before he fell any further. Because if he let himself fall the way he wanted to, and then he had to leave…

His stomach clenched at the thought of it. Of being with her, kissing her, laughing with her - and then leaving her alone. He couldn’t.

But how could he not?

“That doesn’t matter,” he said out loud. “It’s our duty. We have to go back.”

Neither sea nor sky seemed inclined to answer.

He gathered his hair back, reached up and back behind his head to redo the braid. He didn’t have to look. His borrowed shirt pulled away from his stomach as his hands moved with motions as familiar as breathing. He’d never yet cut his hair, and he’d been braiding it since Geonosis. Not a single person had been able to make him cut it. Not the Kaminoans, not the Jedi, not any of his brothers. He didn’t have tattoos, and aside from the tree, his armor was plain. But the hair, that was his.

“You are very, very good at disappearing, _miluir_ ,” Doriana’s voice said as she came up behind him to stand at his side.

There wasn’t a reason, but for a split second, time froze - and the rightness, the wholeness of standing beside _this_ woman and looking out over _this_ ocean under _this_ sky, both terrified and fascinated him. His chest ached.

And then it was gone. The white parts of her face and montrals glowed faintly in the starlight, reflecting the green sky. She looked up at him again with that expression that was unique to her - like she was expecting something amazing from him.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she sighed, tilting her head back to look at the sky. She pointed to each of the moons in turn – silver, blue, green. “That's Domina there, and Telperion the ice moon, and Loryan of the great forests....”

“I’ve never seen such beauty in all my life,” he said softly, looking at her.

Doriana looked back at him quickly, her lekku darkening to steel-grey. “I love my home,” she breathed. “I love it even when it’s trying to kill me. Which happens quite frequently.”

“I can’t say that surprises me,” he laughed. He wanted to wrap his arm around her waist, but he wasn’t sure…

“Do you know what I love most about Asfaloth?” she murmured, walking closer to the cliffs and beckoning him to follow. He did. She sat down at the very edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side. He felt the side of his lips pulling up in a smile. Of course she wasn’t afraid of heights. He sat down beside her. He could just see the beginnings of the white stripes on her thigh, tapering down toward her knees.

“I love the danger,” she grinned. “I love that it’s a beautiful place that will kill you if you don’t respect it.” She shifted her weight and leaned against him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just stopped his heart for a second.

“I love its stubbornness too,” she continued, unbothered by how still he’d gone trying not to disturb her. “That it’s wild, not something that can be contained or controlled. But something that just might be a powerful friend, if you know how to ask.”

Was she still talking about Asfaloth? He wasn’t sure. She turned so she was looking up at him, leaning so close her lekku was draped over his shoulder.

It was too easy. If he’d had any warning he might’ve tried to stop himself, but as it was -

Natural as breathing, he leaned in closer and kissed her. Barely a kiss, just the barest brush of his lips on hers - but in that almost-kiss was light and fire and the cool of her skin and the flash of her eyes -

Horrified, he hissed in a sharp breath and jerked back, scrambling to his feet and holding one hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” he said, backing away from the cliff. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“Rowan,” she interrupted, half-laughing at him. “Why in the universe should you be sorry? It was just a kiss.”

His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Just a kiss. A kiss that had shown him what he could have, if he stayed. In that one instant he'd seen a lifetime with her, a life spent in love. If he never went back to the war.

“I….” His voice was shaky, as were his hands. “I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry.”

She climbed to her feet and came to stand in front of him, took both of her hands in his. Just like he remembered, her skin was soothing and cool.

“Rowan. I _wanted_ you to kiss me,” she said evenly, smiling up at him. “I’ve not exactly been subtle about this, I thought you’d know pretty well by now how I feel about you.”

Well. There was all the flirting, yes. But he could never for the life of him tell if she was serious, and all those cues she’d given - how was he supposed to know if they were real or not? He had no idea.

“I know,” he said. “I was just…I don’t think I can…” he trailed off uselessly.

Her forehead creased in confusion. “Rowan, is there - do you have someone you left behind, like Rogue? Is there a Winger for you?”

“No,” he said, trying to breathe evenly. “There’s nobody. There never has been.”

She nodded, and didn’t look insulted or betrayed. “Could there ever be anyone?” she asked. “Because I know not everyone has feelings like this.”

He had to laugh at that. She was right, of course, but with how deeply he felt for her… “No, it’s not like that,” he said. “Believe me, it’s very possible.”

She narrowed her eyes and smacked his shoulder.

“Then gods-dammit, what am I doing wrong?” she said, exasperated. “If you’re not into me, I’ll be fine with that, just tell me so I can get over you already!”

“Doing - no, you’re wrong - wait…” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Where had that fancy vocabulary gone now? He took a step back, pulling at the end of his braid as he took a breath, and focused on the end of her montral as he spoke.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. Actually, I…I’m afraid I may have…accidentally f-fallen in love with you.”

When he risked a glance back at her eyes, she’d lost the joking look from before. Her dark blue eyes were shining with tears.

“Why is that a bad thing?” she whispered, and the hurt on her face twisted a hot knife in his chest. “Why do you keep running?” Angrily, she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand, like the tears were an annoyance.

“Because it’s not supposed to be for me!” He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so loud then. “Because I was born to die. Because if I do what I so desperately want to, you’ll get hurt. I have to go back.”

He hated that he was crying too, but he couldn’t help it, seeing her tears. “I can’t give you my heart for an hour, or a day,” he went on. “I can’t do it. If we - if I love you, I will love you until there’s no more breath in my body. But I’m supposed to be a good soldier, and it’s -” He scrubbed his hand down his face, taking her hands in his.

“Because if I give you my heart,” he whispered, “I don’t want to have to take it back when some clanker gets lucky with a blaster shot. I can’t hurt you like that.”

For a long, long moment, there was no sound between them. Nothing but the endless sighing of waves. She stared back at him, unblinking, and he could hear the sharp hurt in the shaking of her breath like broken glass.

She was going to slap him. Or kick him off the cliff, or tear out his eye.

She lunged toward him and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. Properly this time.

She was much, much better at this than he was, but that didn’t matter now, all that mattered was her - she was fire and light, rain and thunder. She was the glint of sun on a knife and the sweetness of a baby’s breath. She was everything.

And he was happy to follow her lead.

 _I will follow you anywhere, beloved,_ he thought, still crying even as he kissed her hungrily. _All the days of my life belong to you._

By the time he opened his eyes and broke away from her, his breath was ragged and they were both lying down, just a few feet from the edge of the cliff.

“Don’t go back,” she whispered, lifting her hand to brush her thumb over his swollen lips. “Stay with me, Rowan. Just stay.”

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning his forehead against hers. “Yes.”

There was a lot to talk about, things to figure out. But that could wait until later.

For now, there was him, and her, and the sound of green waves flecked with stars and mist.

 


	13. Many Meetings

Rogue said nothing when Doriana followed Rowan outside. In fact he tried not to react at all,  though he did see Switch roll his eyes and mouth ‘finally’ to Cat. He swallowed and looked down at his datapad again, burying his other hand in the purring tooka’s fur.  
When the two came back in, any fool could see how close they were standing. How red Rowan’s face was, and how dark Doriana’s stripes had gotten. But nobody mentioned it. Well, Damyan whistled under his breath, but that was just him being a brat. Of course they were being completely obvious about it, but he knew Rowan at least wouldn’t like people noticing.  
Rogue kept pretending to read, and while he did smile slyly at Rowan and Doriana, his mind wasn’t really in it. Everything about being around other clones- especially Cat - and seeing Rowan and Doriana do the same dance he’d done once (the glances and smiles, the sneaking around and thinking nobody would notice) - all he could think of was Winger. His Winger, his heart. All he could think of was him, and he hurt.

Rogue huffed and shook his head, his silver earrings jangling. It wasn’t fair of him to be depressing and moping around when everyone else was so happy. He’d just spoil it. So he took those thoughts - those precious memories - and buried them deep in his heart where nobody could see.

When he looked up again, he could see it hadn’t worked. Dreu was watching him with her arms crossed and looked like she wanted to smack him, which was her way of showing worry. Draake had much the same expression, if slightly less aggressive. He smiled and shrugged as he looked at them, and then away. He’d sort of expected those two to notice.

What he didn’t expect was Cat noticing too.

“How’s it hanging, Witcher?” Cat swung down from the beam he’d been perched on and dropped into Rogue’s lap, grinning at him.

Rogue rolled his eyes and pushed him off so he fell to the floor with a huff of laughter.

“It’s Rogue, you little miscreant,” he said affectionately. “And I’m pretty sure you’re the only one hanging around here.”

Cat popped up from the floor, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes and grinning. He wasn’t at all bothered by falling, it seemed.

“What’s with the sour face, brother? I thought you liked it here.” He hopped up nimbly onto the chair beside Rogue, perching with his knees up like some kind of unholy Acklay hybrid.

Rogue sighed, rolling his eyes and setting the datapad aside. Obscure Rylothian witchcraft rituals would have to wait, apparently.

“I know you weren’t part of Topple very long,” he said in a low voice, leaning closer. “But I know you remember Winger.”

“Course I do,” Cat said, losing some of that bright cheerful spark he had. It almost looked like the whiskers on his cheeks were drooping.

“Well, he and I, we….” Rogue swallowed. “Before the tank -”

“I know.” Cat hopped over to share Rogue’s chair and leaned against him. “He wouldn’t shut up about you even back then. Gods, he was so annoying.”

Rogue tried to smile past the lump in his throat, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes. _Witcher! Where are you?_ The echo of a scream from long ago rose in his mind. He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“I miss him so much,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. What if he doesn’t even remember me?”

Just saying the words out loud sent a chill of horror through him. He touched the fortune charm around his neck and whispered a spell to ward off evil things.

“That would never happen.” Cat sounded totally certain, and even a bit defensive. “Winger would never forget you. Ever. Just like I would never, ever forget Mouse.”

Rogue blinked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You and Mouse were together?”

Cat shifted over and rested his chin on his knees, staring moodily at the dinner table. “Nah. Never got the chance to be.” He sounded casual, but there was weighted sorrow behind the words. “But….I would have, if he’d asked.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

“Dori told me I’d see him again, once,” he murmured finally. “Read my palm and everything. I dunno if it’s gonna happen, but….well, who am I to argue with Fate?”

Cat sniffed and stood up, stretching. “We’ll see them again,” he said. It didn’t much sound like he believed it, but Rogue appreciated the sentiment anyway.

............

 

Crow was the first one to notice it.

The Erithuda house had a spectacular roof for being lookout, a high spire with a flat top that looked out over the Lothian landscape for miles. So when the a shadow descended through the mint-green clouds, he was the first to see it, and hear the rumble of a ship coming through the atmosphere.

He watched the shadow warily for a minute, wondering why, exactly, it should make him afraid to think it might be the Republic. Shouldn’t he want to go back?

He huffed and shook his head, his hair falling in his eyes. He pushed it back impatiently. Whoever the hell was in that ship, he should probably tell someone before they landed.

He swung down off the roof, running over shingles and dropping from railings until he hit the ground right in front of Dreu’s garage.

She and Ligara were talking, and the twi’lek pilot looked just about as delighted as Crow had ever seen her - home, working on her ship with a wrench in hand and talking to her girlfriend.

She looked significantly less delighted when Crow walked into the garage, stopping just short of snarling at him.

“Is there something you want?”

Crow was the best out of his squad at hiding his emotions and keeping his face neutral. He crossed his arms and blinked at her, looking unimpressed.

“There’s a ship coming,” he said lazily, as if it was of no concern to him. “Thought you might like to know. Since this is your house and everything.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and stomped outside to look at the green sky, then groaned and swore. “Great. It’s the Asha’ra’m.”

Crow followed her, arms still crossed over his chest. “Is that dangerous, or….?”

“No,” she snapped. “Just annoying and very, very rude.”

“You must get along great,” he muttered slyly.

“What was that?”

“I said that’s great.”

He watched as the ship descended and landed right in front of the ship, and two people stepped out first: a chiss woman with a drink in one hand (tiny pink umbrella and all) and her other arm around the waist of a pretty pink twi’lek girl, who was whispering in her ear and giggling.

“Dreu!” The chiss laughed, descending the ramp. “Babe! Hi. We were in the system and needed some repairs. Also fuel. You mind taking a look, sweetie?”

Dreu threw down her wrench and crossed her arms. “Can you maybe fuck off with the cute nicknames, Aurren? You can’t call me babe anymore.” She looked at the woman beside her and smiled warmly. “Hey, Alyea. You wanna go warn my dad and sister that the horde’s descending?”

She giggled and kissed Aurren’s cheek before heading inside.

“My sister is here too,” she said to Dreu on her way past, with a thick Ryloth accent.

Crow wasn’t paying attention to Dreu and the chiss anymore - clearly they had history, but he wanted to know what the twi’lek meant by “hordes descending.” Because these people looked a hell of a lot like pirates.

First a zabrak - Dathomirian by his tattoos, Crow though. He looked scary, but he had a medkit at his belt, so he probably wasn’t that dangerous.

A weequayan came next - guy with one eye, who looked a bit familiar. He was pretty sure he’d seen him - wait.

Oh, hell. That guy was Doriana’s ex.

The next guy off the ship was a blind Mirialan with long hair, who was laughing over his shoulder to the last person on the ship -

Crow wasn’t really sure why, but he felt something….warp through the world when she stepped out. She was probably the sister Alyea had mentioned - another twi’lek. She didn’t look much like Alyea though. She was white as a seashell, with pale green eyes the same color as the Asfaloth sky, and a very large, fierce-looking Mandalorian screech hawk on her shoulder.

Crow backed up into the shadows of the garage, still watching her coo to the bird like it was a baby tooka. He caught a snatch of Dreu’s argument from behind him.

“- and I bet you weren’t planning to go home and see your mother while you’re on-planet, were you?”

“You leave my mother out of this!”

Crow looked back at the bird woman. He caught his breath. The hawk looked right at him and screeched. And the white twi'lek looked right into his eyes, her green gaze startling and frightening.

“I can see you, you know.”

..........

Switch had just finished painting his face - and hands and arms - when the ship landed outside. It was just as beat up and sturdy as the Ebinor, and he was pretty sure he recognized some of the people.

While he was trying to figure out where he’d seen them, the mirialan in front of him - he’d assumed he’d just move aside, even if he was walking backwards - crashed right into him.

“Hey, watch it!” he said automatically, scowling as he stepped back. “Watch where you’re going, mate!”

The mirialan turned around, carrying a crate of spice or something. His eyes were closed, eyelids mottled with scarred skin.

“Well, you know, I would,” he said seriously. “But I can’t find my eyes anywhere.”

Switch held back a laugh, hoping it wasn’t rude to stare. “You’re blind?” he asked stupidly.

“Nope.” He grinned at him. “I just can’t see. What do they call that again?”

He did laugh that time, and took the crate from him. “Well, someone’s snarky today.”

“Thanks, cutie. I try.”

He was glad the mirialan couldn’t see the sudden flush across his face. Switch shook his head, clearing his throat.

“Switch,” he said, shaking his hand. “My name’s Switch. And how do you even know I’m cute?”

“Clones are hot. Everyone knows that.” Without warning he put both green hands on Switch’s chest and felt over his shoulders and neck and face. “Mhm. Just like I thought. Gorgeous.”

Switch almost choked on his tongue trying to respond without being an idiot. “And you are?” he spluttered, blushing furiously.

“Single,” he laughed. “But I’m Vadii, if you want my name. Technically it’s Vadiian Lenrahi, but nobody calls me that. Ever.” Something in his voice told Switch not to ask, so he didn’t. It was probably the same as calling a brother by his number, he reasoned. You called people by the names they chose. Not a difficult concept.

“Wait a second,” Switch said, narrowing his eyes (not that Vadii could see that.) “Didn’t you try to rob us a while back?”

“I honestly don’t fucking know,” he shrugged. “I’m a pirate, we rob tons of people. And I have no idea who most of them are.”

“Rowan screamed at you,” he prompted. “That weequay with one eye was hitting on Dori.”

“Oh, that was you!” he laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t see what was going on.” He paused, raising his eyebrow. The effect with his scarred eyelids was kind of startling. “That Rowan guy is terrifying. Hot, definitely, but kriffing scary.”

“Right on both counts,” Switch laughed. “And he gets scarier when he loves someone. You should see him and Doriana now, they think they’re being subtle and it’s hilarious.”

“For his sake, I hope he treats her better than Hokair,” Vadii snorted. “She might rip off something more than his eye, if she cares that much.”

From somewhere nearby there was an obnoxiously loud screech, and something huge with wings swooped down and startled Vadii, knocking him forward so he and Switch both fell to the ground, with the mirialan sitting on Switch’s chest.

“Could’ve bought me dinner first,” Switch grinned. He gasped slightly when Vadii’s hands brushed carefully over his face again.

“I like when you smile,” he said. “It makes your voice sound even hotter.”

He was trying to think of a response when the screech-hawk landed placidly on his shoulder, nibbling his ear like it was expecting a treat. Switch looked up to the roof where it had flown from, just in time to see Crow and the white twi’lek woman duck their heads down behind the railing.

He pushed Vadii off his chest and sat up, then leaned close to his face. “My brother’s trying to play matchmaker,” he whispered in his ear. “Wanna return the favor?”

“Definitely,” Vadii purred. “Avis needs to get laid, and Turtle will do anything for a bit of meat. Not unlike me.”

Switch snorted with laughter and rolled his eyes. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

.......................

Crow and Avis both ducked behind the railing when Switch and Vadii looked up at them. For a second they were silent, breathing hard with their shoulders pressed together. Both glanced sideways at each other.

Then Crow scowled and shoved her away, standing up. “Get _off_ me!” he snapped. “That was your fault.”

She jumped to her feet and glared at him, stepping closer into his space. “What, just because it was my bird? You're the one who kept blathering on with all those commands you don't understand in the slightest.” Her voice was sharply accented, peppery and cold like spicy resin gum.

To tell the truth, he wasn't quite sure exactly how they'd gotten up to the roof in the first place. From the second the woman – Avis, he reminded himself – had noticed him “lurking,” as she called it, he'd been on edge, sullen and moody. And she was _not_ helping. He'd never met a more infuriating civilian in his life!

“I think I'm fairly safe saying I know some mando'a,” he said, crossing his arms and stepping closer. “Seeing as I _learned it from birth.”_

“Do you think I've never met a clone before?” She didn't back away from him as he advanced. Her eyes were frosty green ice, like that moon he'd seen in the sky last night. _Ice queen._

“First, you're not born. Second, I know you learn secondary languages through the spread of culture, not through training.”

“Oh, piss _off,”_ he growled. “I'm not one of your birds to study and take notes on.” His eyes were almost black, gleaming like polished stones. How much mando'a could she actually know? He smirked, and took another step toward her; still she didn't move away from him.

“ _Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?_ ” he said, chin lifted in a challenge.

Her eyes flashed like sun on water, and she stepped closer to, fast and sudden so he was forced to take a step back.

“ _Kebbur bic,”_ she replied, voice clipped.

“Maybe I will,” he muttered. He held her gaze, although he didn't think he could actually hit a civilian that wasn't trying to kill him, much less slap her in the face. _Try it,_ she'd said.

“Go ahead. Try.” She poked him in the chest, pushing him back. “Touch me and I'll cut off your hands and feed them to you.”

The urge to laugh came too quick for him to suppress; the corners of his mouth twitched upward and he actually _giggled._

She snarled, hooking her foot around his knee to knock him to the ground and kneel on his chest. “You think this is funny?”

“No! No. I don't.” He snickered. “Seriously, sorry. It's just -”

“Just what?” She leaned down and brought her face close to his, her breath cool and minty on his face. Her lekku brushed his shoulders. “You think it's funny that a twi'lek woman can defend herself? You think I won't -”

“It's not that. I just spent a month on a ship with Dreu,” he coughed, shifting uncomfortably. “Actually....” He looked sideways, face flushed. “That was a fantastic line. And I was just picturing Cat and Switch standing behind you high-fiving when you said that.”

She stared at him for a long time, unblinking and unmoving. Then she stood up and pulled him to his feet, dropping his hand like it was poisonous the second he was standing on his own.

“You are the most pig-headed human I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” she said, both lekku curled up with the tips pointing to her back. And without another word she stormed away down the steps, leaving him bewildered on the roof.

~~~~~~~

“Well, Switch?” Rowan said gently, tapping his brother on the shoulder. “You called the meeting. What's this about?”

“Vadii -” he started, and Cat snickered. Charm cuffed the back of Cat's head.

“Quiet, you,” he muttered. “Let him talk.”

“Vadii says his captain will take us back to Coruscant,” Switch burst out, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously. “If we want. He said they wouldn't mind as long as Aurren gets paid for it.”

Rowan glanced around at his brothers – at Charm's careful blankness, Crow's scowl, Switch's apprehension. Cat looked afraid, yes, but he also looked _hopeful,_ which was worrying. What did he have to go back to?

Rogue had gone white as a shiny's armor, muttering prayers under his breath as he paced. “You leave me out of it,” he said vehemently. “I'm not going back there.”

Cat tilted his head and frowned, touching Rogue's shoulder. “But Witcher, what about -”

“Don't!” Rogue snapped, stepping away. Cat pouted, looking like a kicked puppy. “I said I'm not going back. And for fuck's sake, stop calling me that.”

Cat went totally still for a second; if it wasn't for the flaring of his nostrils he could've been carved from rock. Then he turned without another word and ran back to the house.

“I'm staying,” Switch said. “I – I mean, what is there for us there?”

“Death,” said Crow helpfully. “Course, that's everywhere, but still.”

“Well, aren't you cheerful.” Charm rolled his eyes, glancing worriedly at the house where Cat had run. “Yeah, I vote we stay too. You can never get decent caf in the barracks.”

The four of them looked at Rowan expectantly, like he had the deciding vote. He blinked back tears and laughed, shaking his head. “You really have to ask?” he said softly. “This is my home. I'm staying. We're all staying.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, Rogue limped away, following Cat to apologize.

With a sudden realization that sent a jolt through his blood, Rowan gasped out loud. And he, too, ran toward the house.

  
  


Just as he was about to step through the garage door, Draake grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back out into the workshop.

“Not so fast, son,” he said, tugging him along. “I know where you're going and what you're going to do.”

Rowan swallowed. If Draake didn't want him to be with Doriana - “Sir,” he said evenly, “I love her. And I'm almost positive she loves me to.”

“Obviously.” The old twi'lek's eyes twinkled as he smiled up at him. “I'm not here to give you the ' _if you hurt my daughter'_ speech. We both know she'd rip your guts out long before I could if you did.”

“Yes, I know.” He pulled on the end of his braid. “So what did you want to tell me?”

“About my family, son.”

Draake proceeded to tell him their whole history – how he and his togruta partner Farren had met two performers at the cantina in the Capitol. Tameira was a twi'lek dancer, and Elessa, her togruta girlfriend and singer.

Nobody on Asfaloth cared too much about strict marriage laws, so if the four of them wanted to marry each other, they could – and they did. Those had been the happiest years of Draake's life, he said. By random chance, Tameira had their first daughter, Dreu, but lost her life delivering her. So the first tomb in the cliffside masoleum was filled.

Doriana was born later, and the three of them doted shamelessly on their little girls, and they were happy. Doriana showed every sign of inheriting her mother's angelic singing voice, while Dreu followed Draake around the garage every day and had fixed her first engine at four.

Then Farren started coughing. The medcenters out here couldn't help the mass in his lungs, and where were they going to get money for a trip to the Core? So the second tomb was filled, right beside Tameira's.

Draake and Elessa raised their girls quietly together for the next few years. Draxo was adopted after they found the zabrak boy wandering alone along the cliff, saying his parents had left him.

Then when Dreu was fourteen and Doriana twelve, there was a terrible house fire in the town. Elessa hadn't hesitated for a second – she ran inside to save the nautolan family trapped in their home. She managed to get their newborn child to safety, but the house collapsed before she and the parents could make it out.

He'd sealed up the empty third tomb by himself, Draake said. He took in the baby nautolan, of course, and that was Damyan. Dar'go had come later, when Doriana found him half-starved on the beach.

“She's never sung a note since the fire,” Draake said now, finishing his story. “I know you sing, I've heard you. She loves it.”

Rowan didn't realize he'd been crying until he wiped his eyes. This kind old man had lost so many he loved, had given so much.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked softly, clasping the twi'lek's hand in his.

“Because you should know your family history,” Draake whispered, “if you're going to be part of this family.” He uncurled his other hand and held out a beautiful silver ring, carved into an elegant leaf shape with a pure sapphire at the center. “This was Elessa's. She'd want you to give it to our daughter when you ask her, my son.”

Rowan's throat was thick with tears as he wrapped his arms around the old man, cradling the precious ring in one hand. “Thank you,” he said, choked up. “Thank you....father.”

Draake laughed, a little wistfully as he wiped his own eyes. “Ah, they'd have loved you,” he sighed. “I just know you'll meet them someday. When we're all together again.”

.....

Doriana handed a stack of plates to Draxo and laughed at something Aurren was saying, listening to a dozen conversations at once. She noticed when Rowan's brothers started to trickle back in – how the tone of the chatter got excited, jubilant even.

Her breath caught when she heard them talk – they were staying here, all of them. She stilled, letting out a soft breath as her eyes blurred. In her mind, all she could see was this house, ten times bigger with haphazard additions and extra stories. She heard the laughter of small children, saw them chasing each other around the grass – children of several species.

She saw a man, slightly stooped now with silver braided hair and old wise eyes in his lined face, smiling at her with total adoration. Rowan.

Suddenly warm hands in hers jerked her back to the present. The room had gone quiet now, and Rowan stood in front of her, young and vibrant but shining with that same love.

She gasped softly as he knelt at her feet – both knees, not just one, and held out both hands with her mother's ring in his palm.

“Doriana?” he said, almost too quiet to here. “I have no name I can share with you. I only have myself to give. But I would follow you to the end of the universe and back again. All the days of my life are yours. Will you – do you want to – can I be your husband?”

She laughed out loud as she put the ring on, pulling him to his feet and kissing him deeply. They were surrounded by people. Who cared? She loved him. Damn him, this sweet, stubborn man, she loved him so much.

“Of course I will.”

 

 


	14. Everyone Watched the Wedding

_ When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough; _ _   
_ _ When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow; _ _   
_ _ When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air, _ _   
_ _ Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair! _ __   
  


Time flew on Asfaloth. Maybe a little too fast.    
It seemed like yesterday, and yet it had been a full six standard months since Rowan had asked Doriana to marry him. The dark blue engagement ring glittering on her finger made Rowan's heart stop every time she held his hand.    
For the past several weeks the house hadn’t been quiet - the very air buzzed with the excitement of planning such an event. Sending the invitations, ordering the food, everything that went with it. It was wonderful, the anticipation of it all.   
Although it was rather a pain to keep Doriana from throwing a fit every time something went wrong.   
"Doriana, love. Please," Rowan said softly, trying to catch her hand as they stood in the kitchen, surrounded by open recipe books. "It’s just a little thing, let’s just calm down -”   
"I will not calm down! This needs to be perfect, it needs to go right, damn it Rowan! It's our wedding, it needs-" Doriana threw her hands up and Rowan grabbed her waist, pulling her into his chest. Partly because he'd learned that calmed her down, and partly because it was just very nice to hold her.   
" _ Mesh’la.”  _ He kissed her forehead, his voice soft.”Getting married to you  _ is _ perfect." He kissed the small dip between in her montrals, loving how she shivered at the touch of his lips. "The wedding is just a ceremony. It's just a formality."   
Doriana pouted. "But it's an important formality. The dress, the vows- the kiss."    
"And we will have all of those. But you need to breathe."   
"I am breathing!" She said indignantly.   
Rowan laughed and shook his head. "Of course you are, love. Let's go for a walk, alright? Let the others handle it. It'll be just fine.”   
  


……….

  
It was not fine. Not even close. Damn Rowan and his pretty words, seducing Dreu’s sister into getting  _ married! _

She threw a large glass bottle at the wall. Charm narrowly avoided getting hit with flying glass, swearing as he ducked.   
Ligara squeaked. "Dreu!"   
"Doriana is going to kill us." Dreu muttered, pulling on her lekku. "She's going to skin us and hang us by our entrails and-" She fell silent when Ligara covered her eyes and mouth with her long delicate hands.    
"Relax, Dreu." Rogue chuckled. "Doriana is not going to hang or skin anyone, because it's going to go right." He smiled. "Take a break, yeah? We got this for a while."

She glanced at Ligara, who still looked nervous, and her face softened.  _ I love her so much.  _ She crossed the room in a few strides and took Ligara’s hands, then pulled her down to kiss her. “I’m going to go pick up some supplies. You want anything?”

“You,” Ligara said with a soft smile, and then laughed. “I do need some new lab equipment - here, I made a list.” 

Dreu kissed her cheek again and turned on her heel to leave. “Ey, lucky boy,” she said as she passed Charm. “Come with?” 

He leaned away from the wall and followed her, matching strides. “Don’t ever call me that again and we’re golden,” he said languidly.

“Where are you going?” Rogue called after them. 

“To the moon!” she tossed back over her shoulder. Just before she shut the door she heard Rogue say “which one?”

She marched straight for the  _ Ebinor,  _ Charm following behind her. 

“Are you actually lucky?” she asked him as they boarded and she ran through the taking-off procedure. “Cause I could really use some luck for this.”

“What, picking up supplies?” Charm raised his notched eyebrow. “I thought you were a  _ good  _ pilot.”

“Insult me like that again and I’ll shove you into the hyperdrive, lucky or not.” As they ascended into atmosphere, she glanced back at the clone. “We’re not picking up supplies. I’m gonna buy a ring. Tameira never left me one, you know? Or, well, if she did it was buried with her.” She steered the ship toward Domina, the only settled moon of the three. 

Charm stared at her, breaking into a wide smile. “You’re gonna propose?” he asked, sitting in the chair beside her. “Yeah, I can help. Though if you want artistic help Switch would be better.”

She rolled her eyes, a rare blush spreading over her cheeks and lekku. “Yeah, well. Don’t get all mushy on me. I just need you to pick up the actual supplies so she doesn’t suspect anything.”

“Sure,” he said easily, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. 

Dreu took a deep breath as she landed the ship in the docking yard of Fornost, Domina’s capital city. She was really gonna do this.

 

………

 

_ When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade; _

_ When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid; _

_ When shower and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air, _

_ I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair. _

  
  


Someone was singing.

Doriana felt soft grass under her cheek, smelled the soil and sea, and felt the sunlight warming her. But as she sat up slowly, what called her was a sweet, hypnotic female voice, eerily familiar in a deep, ancient part of her mind. 

A cool hand rubbed her shoulder comfortingly as she sat up, and she turned with a gasp. “ _ Ada?”  _ she whispered, tears in her eyes at seeing Farenn alive again. The singing stopped as Elessa smiled and came closer to wrap her in a hug.

“ _ Ama?”  _ For a second she just closed her eyes and let her parents embrace her, tears spilling from her eyes.

Elessa hummed and wiped a tear from her cheek. “We’re so proud of you, nightingale,” she whispered, kissing her lekku. “Tell our new son we love him.”

She gasped and looked between them. “You - you know about Rowan?”

“Of course we do, sweet girl.” Farenn’s voice was rough, but nothing like the ruined wreck it had been in his last days. “You know we’re always watching over you.”

She caught her breath. “This...isn’t a dream,” she whispered, awed. “Is it?”

“A vision.” Farenn wrapped his arm around her waist. “Did you know you got that from me? Could’ve been a Jedi if I wanted to.”

She laughed and leaned into his touch, still crying. “I miss you,  _ Ada.  _ And  _ Ama…. _ I had a nightmare about you!” 

Elessa pursed her lips. “That was not me,” she said gravely. “Be on guard, nightingale. Something is coming.” She kissed Doriana’s forehead.

“How long can you stay?” she whispered, looking between them with a lump in her throat. Her parents’ hands entwined as they glanced at each other, looking wistful. 

“Not long, love,” her father said softly. “Tameira’s waiting. Tell Draake we miss him.” 

Elessa leaned forward to hug her one more time, and Doriana memorized what it felt like, what it smelled like. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride,” she whispered. “Be brave. Be kind. And if you can ever forgive me for leaving…..learn to sing again.”

Her parents, and the whole scene around them, began to fade and lose its color.

“No!” she begged, reaching for their hands, but she passed through them like air. “Please don’t go, it’s too soon -”

She jerked awake in bed, gasping, and burst into tears. Rowan groaned softly and sat up. He was still mostly asleep, but he still held her as she cried.

 

…….

“Oomph!” Charm grunted when someone bumped into him from behind, causing him to drop the supplies he was carrying. Great. Now he’d get to listen to Dreu bitching about it all the way back to the planet. He turned around, annoyed and scowling.

“Oh-oh jeez, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz- here, let me help.” A young man- he couldn’t be older than twenty, younger than Charm’d be if he aged normally- knelt down to help Charm pick up the dropped supplies. His hands were a pale blue-green, like mint candy, and his long black hair hid his face like a silk curtain. He pushed his hair out of his face. 

“Again I’m really sorry, I’m a total klutz and bad luck.” He smiled, his eyes solid brown- like caf with creamer. His smile was crooked, with dimples on just one side. Charm’s mouth went dry for a second. Oh, no. He was  _ cute. _

“Uh, no...no problem man,” he grunted as he dragged the box up, grabbing the last of the supplies. Hopefully nothing was too damaged. Dreu would skin him if he ruined her sister’s wedding.

“Can I make it up to you? Caf maybe?” the man said, smiling hopefully at him. Charm paused and looked back, head tilted. 

“Caf does sound pretty great,” he admitted. “I gotta drop these off at the ship, but I got time before my pilot is finished her shopping.”

The alien’s face lit up; he pulled Charm along behind him by his arm. “Follow me! My parents make the best sweets and drinks on the entire moon, trust me!”

“Whoa! Careful!” Charm tripped, and just barely caught a heavy package in one hand. “Easy there. Gotta bring this lot back first.”

He blinked and flushed darker green. “Oh -! Oh, right. Of course.” He took one of the packages from him. “Which way?” 

Charm nodded down the street. “You local?” he asked as they walked. “I’m Charm, by the way.”

“Jrazi’aderi’amowei.”

Charm stared at him, slightly panicked. There was no  _ way  _ he’d get that right without practice. And he didn’t want to insult him by getting his name wrong.

He burst into laughter, covering his mouth. “It’s okay! You can just call me Razi, most people do.”

Charm smiled and sighed, relieved. “Alright then, Razi. The  _ Ebinor  _ is this way.”

He felt Razi’s eyes on him as they walked - shy and furtive, yes, but appraising him all the same. His cheeks warmed as he pretended not to notice. 

“So, uh - you from this moon?” he asked, flustered.

“Yep. All my life,” Razi said cheerfully. “Mama says it’s a good place for families with hybrid kids, since most people don’t give a womp rat’s ass who you marry.”

Charm looked back at him and laughed. With Razi’s colors and the peculiar formation of his eyes….

“Mirialan and Chiss?” he guessed. 

Razi almost dropped the package in surprise. “Yeah! How’d you know?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” He grinned and kept walking. Razi was a little shorter than him and much smaller, so he had to go twice as fast to keep up with Charm.

“You’re a clone soldier, aren’t you?”

Charm stopped so fast Razi ran into his back.

“What makes you think that?” he said guardedly, his eyes wary.

“I - I’ve m-met them before,” Razi stammered, blushing furiously as he stepped back. “I know you’re not wearing any armor, which means you’re probably not supposed to be here -”

Charm’s face went cold, and he turned away. Fuck. Just when he’d actually made a real connection with someone, just when he wasn’t everyone’s second choice, this guy was going to turn him in!

“Wait!” Razi said, voice rising higher as he reached out to grab Charm’s arm. “I don’t care. I’m not gonna tell anyone, I promise. I was just curious.”

Charm hesitated, about to turn away again - but Razi looked like he was about to cry, like a kicked puppy. He relaxed and ducked his head.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, grimacing. “Not just me I gotta look out for, you know? I got brothers to think of.”

Razi nodded rapidly as they reached the ship, and Charm set the supplies down by the loading ramp.

“Of course! Of course, I’m not gonna tell on you. Any of you. I just wanted to ask.”

Gods-dammit, why did this walking disaster have to be so adorable? Charm smiled reluctantly and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Well, come on then. I think you owe me a cup of caf.”

 

…….

 

Crow climbed down from the rafters of the pavilion they’d recently finished. Maybe taking a break wasn’t the best idea, sure, but if he had to wind one more twist of gold tinsel around one more beam of wood….

Besides, Switch was down there with food.

He walked up behind his brother and sat down, sneaking a fry from his plate. “Hi.”

“Son of a bantha-fucking -” Switch nearly dropped the plate and turned to glare at him. “You smug little shit. You enjoy that, don’t you?”

“Every minute,” he deadpanned, totally straight-faced. “What’s the word up at the big house?”

Switch rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on the bench they were sitting on, leaning his back against Crow. 

“Well, our lovely new sister-in-law is apparently a homicidal menace, Charm may or may not be coming back from Domina with a date, and Vadii - I mean, Aurren’s crew is coming for the wedding.”

“They’re what now?” Crow said, eyes widening. “I thought this was just going to be a family thing!”

“Apparently they are family,” Switch grumbled, his mouth full of breaded fried fish. “And if they’re all coming back that means -”

“Avis,” he muttered, looking down. Much as he hated to admit it - and he  _ wouldn’t,  _ not out loud - he’d thought about her every day since the  _ Ash’aram  _ left. Thought about how cool and smooth her pale skin looked, the vivid green fire of her eyes, the flash and jingle of the jewels on her dress. And how she’d come  _ this  _ close to slapping him straight off the roof.

Switch froze and sat up to face him, his perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. “What was that, vod?” he said softly, a devilish glitter in his eyes. 

“Nothing! Shut up,” Crow hissed, crossing his arms and turning away. “I just don’t wanna get slapped again, is that so bad?”

“Mm-hm. Sure. We’ll go with that story.” Switch rested his chin in his hand, red-and-gold eyeshadow glittering in the green sunlight. 

Crow pressed his lips together and looked down furiously. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Who’s Vadii, then?”

Switch’s triumphant, teasing look froze on his face - he flushed and looked away. “Nobody. He’s nobody.”

“Right.” Crow rolled his eyes. “Come on. I haven’t seen you this nervous about a guy - or a girl, for that matter - since Kamino. What’s up with this guy?”

Switch was still looking down, but he smiled softly, absently drawing on his leg with a paint-pen. “One of the pirates. He’s blind. I dunno what it is, I just can’t stop thinking about him.”

Crow smiled then too - a rare enough sight in itself, he supposed - and wrapped an arm around Switch’s shoulders. “I’ll talk to Avis if you talk to Vadii. Deal?”

“What’s in it for me?” Switch said, narrowing his eyes. 

Crow blinked at him. “Getting laid, for once. And also whoever talks first gets deserts for the month.”

“Deal!”

………

Razi’s parents’ cafe was exactly Charm’s kind of place - quiet and unpretentious, comfortable in a very lived-in kind of way. He sat across from the hybrid in a stuffed armchair, a scratched table between them. 

Charm glanced at Razi and broke into a smile - he was watching him, expectant and a little anxious as he waited for Charm to try the caf. 

He raised the cup to his lips and drank - black, with a bit of sweetener and chocolate powder the way he liked it. 

He set the cup down, meeting Razi’s brown eyes. “It’s kriffing fantastic,” he grinned. “Way better than the instant stuff I’m used to, anyway.”

Razi’s cheeks flushed dark green, and he buried his face in his hands, long silky hair falling forward. 

Oh. Oh dear. If every compliment got Charm a reaction that adorable, then he was gonna need Rowan to help him come up with some good ones, because it had been a very long time since Charm’d felt that very peculiar thrill in his stomach about another being.

Razi was shorter than him, so he’d be the perfect size to wrap his arms around. For a second his mind was caught up in flashing images - running his hands through Razi’s hair, kissing his cheek so he’d hear him laugh, holding him at night -

“Charm?” Razi said uncertainly, waving a green-blue hand in front of his face. “Are - are you okay? You were….staring…?”

Charm’s face went red right to the tips of his ears. Shit. Fuck, he was staring like an ass. “Fine!” he burst out, giving his head a shake. “Yeah, I’m - I’m good. Totally fine. You wanna come to a wedding?”

The words were out of his mouth before his brain even halfway registered them. He blinked at Razi owlishly, and Razi stared back.

“A...a wedding?” he said hesitantly. “Whose wedding? And you mean - with you?”

If the floor opened up and swallowed Charm like a sarlaac right then, he would not complain. He scrubbed a hand down his face. Gods, he was terrible at this. 

“My brother,” he said, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “One of my squad brothers, he’s marrying a woman from Asfaloth. Doriana Erithuda -”

Razi’s eyes went wide. “You know the  _ Erithudas?”  _ He said in an awed, hushed voice.

“Yeah, they rescued us. Why?”

“They’re like, the closest thing Asfaloth has to royalty that people actually respect. Nobody messes with them, not for at least three systems around.” Razi pulled his hair over one shoulder and carded his fingers through it. “I would love to go with you, as long as, you know, nobody’s gonna get shot or anything.”

Charm grinned wryly, thinking of the Asha’ram crew and the Erithudas together. “It’s a date, then.”

……...

 

_ When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold _

_ Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold; _

_ When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West, _

_ Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best! _

  
  
  


They married in the green-golden light of sunset, with the three moons aligned in the sky behind them. The sound of waves was their music, and flowers festooned the pavilion like they would for visiting royalty.

Draake was their officiant, and two pirate crews and several townspeople were in attendance, but neither bride nor groom saw anyone but each other. Rowan dressed simply - polished armor, hair braided into intricate spirals with flowers and gems, a ring on his finger. A strand of silver and another of gold, twined together - later he’d wear it under his shirt to protect it, but for now it was on his hand as hers was. 

 

……..

Someone had “accidentally” messed up the seating arrangements, and with assigned seats Avis couldn’t just get up and move. So she was stuck walking down the aisle with Crow and standing beside him in the lineup. So far she’d stepped on his foot three times, looking perfectly innocent while she did. Although, credit where credit was due - she looked amazing in the pale green dress she wore, flared out at the hem with a halter neck. Thin gold chains adorned her lekku. And she had to admit (silently to herself, that is) that he looked pretty great too. Smug bastard. Did he have to do that? With the stubble and the hair and the eyes? It was ridiculous. She tried not to look at him, but she could feel his glare on her all through the wedding. Why did he hate her so much?

As soon as the reception started she made her escape - she’d come congratulate Doriana later, after she’d calmed down and fed Turtle (who was very insulted that he’d been evicted from the wedding for trying to sing along during Rowan’s vows.) 

As she rounded the corner of the house, a hand caught her arm. Crow. She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away. “What do you want, Crow? I’m busy.”

“I need to talk to you.” His face was intense, shadowed, inscrutable. As usual with him he looked furious. 

She huffed. “So talk. Quickly.”

He swallowed and stepped back, hands in his pockets, and looked away from her. “I’m sorry, okay?” he muttered. “Look, I don’t wanna fight with you on my brother’s wedding. So, I - here. This is for you. Peace offering.” 

He pulled out something from his pocket and pressed it into her hands, still not looking at her. And then he turned and walked away without another word. 

“What the hell…?” she whispered, glaring after him. Was he playing some kind of game? She looked down at the object in her hand and gasped out loud.

It was a bird, carved from solid black wood with its head back and wings flared wide open. He’d painted tiny gold and green accents on it. She swallowed and tried to restart her breathing, looking up where he’d gone.

What the  _ fuck? _

_ ……… _

Vadii couldn’t see the wedding, of course. But he knew who he was sitting beside. And even if running his hands all over someone didn’t actually help him “see” them better - well, he wasn’t exactly gonna tell Switch that, now was he?

All jokes aside though, his stomach was twisting with worry. He knew he came on kind of strong sometimes, and what if he’d freaked Switch out and the clone was just being nice? 

Or even worse - what if he  _ pitied  _ him? 

Gods, that was the last thing he needed. 

Beside him in his chair, Switch was tapping his foot on the ground in a frantic rhythm. Vadii elbowed him. 

“Cut that out,” he whispered, leaning closer. Nobody said he couldn’t enjoy this, right? “I’m trying to hear the wedding.”

“Sorry,” Switch hissed back. “I’m kinda keyed up. Don’t know why, it’s not  _ my  _ wedding. Can I -” He reached out and grabbed Vadii’s hand. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Sorry,” Switch said again, but as he started drawing - at least it felt like that - on Vadii’s hand - he sounded calmer now. “You don’t mind, do you? I need to focus.”

“Not at all,” Vadii murmured. It sounded like a purr, almost, not because Vadii was flirting but because of the delicious feeling that Switch’s drawings suddenly gave him. He  _ felt  _ like a purring tooka, and wanted to stretch out on his back and bask in this feeling. “Keep doing that,” he said drowsily. “It feels good.”

Switch paused for a second, and then kept drawing. The marker was cool on his skin. And Switch leaned in closer and kissed Vadii’s cheek. 

“How’s that feel?” he whispered in his ear.

Vadii’s cheeks flared with heat, and he shifted on his chair. “Pretty damn amazing,” he managed to whisper. “But cut that out. This is a wedding, there are children here.”

“So?” he said. “They’re gonna see Row and Dori making out like teenagers in a minute.”

“Fair point,” Vadii said. “But let me tell you, if you keep that up, things will get a lot less G-rated very fast.”

“....Oh.”

Vadii smirked. “Let’s talk at the reception, pretty boy. I’ll be waiting.”

 

……..

_ When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold _ _   
_ _ Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold; _ _   
_ _ When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West, _ _   
_ __ Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!

 

In all his life, Rowan could say with total certainty he’d never, ever seen anything so beautiful as this woman standing in front of him. Just the sight of her made his heart sing. He wanted to be hers, totally and forever. And now he would be. 

“Beloved one,” he started, eyes locked on hers. “My light, my life, my sun and stars. I came into this universe an orphan, just like all my brothers. And for most of my life that made no sense - how could I be here and feel all this beauty and pain, if I was only born to die? But I can see it now. My reason to be here, my love, is you.” 

Rowan paused and squeezed her hands. “You are a creature of strength and mercy, a shining light. I pledge myself - mind, body and soul - to you, for the rest of eternity. In every universe where we exist I want to be yours.” He blinked back tears. “If I’m a fool for loving you, then so be it. I love you. For ever, for always.”

 

He could see she was crying too - gods, she looked like a star incarnate! Silver and gold plates adorned her montrals and lekku, while bands of crystals circled her arms. And her dress….it looked like a cloud spun into fabric and woven with moonlight. 

“Rowan,” she said, smiling at him through her tears. “I never knew taking Rogue’s side in an argument would lead to so much - to all of this, to  _ us.”  _ She looked just at him, ignoring the crowd completely.

“I don’t have the way with words you do, my love, but know that everything I am, everything I have been and will be is yours. In this life and all that follow after, I will find you.” She reached out to cup his face in one hand. “My heart and body are yours. My mind is yours. My name we share now, Rowan Erithuda.” His heartbeat jumped at hearing those words. 

Draake stood between them, clean for once, and with a wistful smile on his face. “By the laws of this world, I pronounce you husband and wife.” He nudged Rowan playfully. “Now kiss her, you walnut.”

He did. With none of the hesitation he’d had the first time, and nothing held back. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, and finally, finally  _ Finally,  _ he was home.

Something that had felt out of place his whole life had just been made right, and the light that filled them both was singing with joy.

 

_ When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown; _

_ When Straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town; _

_ When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West, _

_ I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best! _


	15. Clouds on the Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New characters for a long awaited update!! Hope everyone enjoys them as much as I do ^v^ Also the Jedi Dasaed sa Magre does not belong to me, he is the creation of the wonderful Naberiie, who is a literal goddess of writing whose work should be read and praised <3 Enjoy

Rogue couldn't believe how ridiculous Rowan and Doriana were.

Constantly together, giggling and snuggling up to each other. It was candy sweet. Cavity inducing sweet. Gods, had he and Winger been that annoying? It was a miracle the Captain had never smacked them. 

And, Rogue thought with a grin, he wasn't the only one getting annoyed. Draxo was getting frustrated with it to, burying himself in his engines with Dreu- although Dreu focused more on planning her proposal to Ligara than actually working on ships. Everyone else was just... finding hobbies. Switch painted murals on some of the ships that came in to be repaired- some of Asfaloth, and others of the planets he remembered. Damyan taught Crow and Cat how to climb the cliffs in their spare time. Everything seemed...right. Peaceful, idyllic even. Like this was the way things were meant to be.

But still, Rogue’s omens told him - in vague, threatening terms as usual - that something was coming, and to be on guard. Like a shadow of threat was lurking under the pale sky and glittering sea. 

Rogue sat with his battle droid leg removed, polishing and cleaning the parts, as well as the stump of his leg. Behind him, a wind-chime made from fishbones and urchin spines rattled faintly in a breeze that smelled a little more like copper than iron today.

He held a screw bolt between his teeth, tightening another with a wrench. A softer breeze caressed his face, hitting him with a scent so full of memory he jerked straight up and dropped both his leg and the bolt.

Engine oil and blaster fuel. His stomach tightened.

“Where are you, Wing?” he whispered, reaching an empty hand to the sky.

As his hand blocked out the sun, a flock of magnificent jewel-colored seabirds burst into song and flew upward in an exultation. Rogue’s eyes blurred and stung, and he swallowed the painful lump in his throat.

_ He’s coming. He’s coming back!  _

As fast as he could with his shaking hands Rogue reattached his battle-droid leg and took off in a limping run toward the new extension of the house where he knew Doriana would be.

 

Since the wedding they’d started three new wings to the house, so that when it was finished it would probably look more like a ramshackle wood and stone castle than a mech’s garage. Which, in all honesty, fit quite well with the Erithudas’ position on the planet - they had no official central government, but the closest approximation would probably amount to a benevolent oligarchy, with Draake’s family and the Selas in charge.

Draake’s wedding present to Row and Dori had been a whole wing of the new section, which currently was just a second floor on stilts.

But that was fine with the newlyweds, Rogue thought dryly. All they seemed to need at the moment was the bedroom.

He snickered to himself and climbed up the wooden stairs to the door, knocking loudly.

He heard swearing, and the sound of both of them scrambling, probably to find clothes. 

“Get decent,” he drawled. “I’m coming in. Rowan, you’re nothing I haven’t seen before and I know Dori doesn’t care.”

Nevertheless they were both fully, if sloppily, dressed when he stepped inside. Rogue smirked at Rowan. 

“You guys playing sabaac up here without me? Bad form.”

“Rogue,” Doriana interrupted, gritting her teeth. “Tell me what you want right now or get the hell out. We’re busy.”

He snorted. “Clearly. Very hard at work, I see.” 

Rowan nearly choked and covered it with a coughing fit. “Is there something you want?”

His smile faded slightly. “Sorry, Row. I gotta have some words with your blushing bride.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Doriana, something is coming.”

She went as still as if she’d been carbonite-frozen, glaring at him with those sharp eyes. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he said impatiently. 

Doriana bit her lip and pulled Rowan down to kiss him again, brushing back his hair. “You mind waiting for me, my love? This is important.”

“Of course, my stars,” he murmured lovingly, tracing her lekku stripes. “Hurry back to me.”

She giggled and swatted his hand. 

“Rowan! You know that tickles!” 

“Oh, does it?” He smirked and darted forward to press a line of kisses all the way up to the base of her montrals.

Rogue cleared his throat loudly and stomped his metal foot on the floor. Doriana stepped away from her husband, looking embarrassed. 

“Right. Let’s go talk somewhere I won’t get distracted.”

 

Away from Rowan, Doriana was a little calmer, but she still paced. "You said something is coming?" She spoke sharply, no playful banter. Rogue didn't take much offense. "I got...signs. Subtle ones, you know, ones most people ignore. But today I smelled engine oil and blaster fuel. And saw a flock of birds."

Doriana shot him a look. "Rogue-"    
"No Doriana, you have to understand. It was a sign." Rogue anxiously tapped his foot. "Winger's coming. Here. And...and that means...." He pushed his hair back from his face. "That means Jedi."

“ _ Jetii’se,”  _ she spat, baring her fangs. She let out a vicious string of curses in about three languages - mostly Lothic and Mando’a. Rogue raised an eyebrow but let her swear. He had a couple guesses where she had learned them.

“So what do you suggest we do?” She finally asked after venting. Rogue lifted his shoulders helplessly. “Depends on why they’re coming- we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Doriana looked down. “Should we tell the others?”

“What do you think?”

She hesitated. “Not yet. There's no need to alarm them over nothing, if we're wrong. Just….keep watching, Rogue. And tell me if you see anything else.”

…….

 

Jedi Master Helyne Maai stood on the command deck of the battle cruiser, twisting her long purple hair back into a tight braid that she looped around into a spiral. The sparkling, deadly jewel of the planet below filled the whole viewscreen. She rested her hand on the lightsaber at her hip, chewing the corner of her mouth thoughtfully. Her captain was spying for her, bless him.

Of course Daanin preferred to call it information gathering, but he was spying. So were the rest of her command squad, his handpicked men. Sa Magre’s troops were…..worryingly closed off. Frightened of her. And the man himself….well, she didn’t particularly want to think about him right now.

“This mission is low-risk,” she said out loud. “We are here for diplomacy. Not war.”

“Helyne, I love you. But you're kriffing terrible at politics.” Her padawan, Falinx Chatyn, came to stand beside her, switching their large ears. “They want a base here. It's a strategic system, remember? Besides, the field reports say it's easy to defend and very difficult to attack.”

Helyne smiled fondly and put an arm around the young zygerrian’s shoulders. “See, this is why I keep you around,” she laughed. “I'm a hopeless fool.”

“More like a stubborn jackass,” they grinned, rolling their eyes. “But I love you too.” They looked down at the planet - Asfaloth - and their ears twitched. “Be careful, Helyne,” they said softly. “This other guy - he's dangerous. You don't wanna piss him off.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I do,” she said, lifting her chin. “What then?”

“I'm serious, Hel,” they insisted, crossing their arms. “I don't like him.”

“You barely like me.”

“What, so you do like him?” Falinx snorted. 

She bit her lip. “I didn't say that,” she muttered finally. “Being near him sets my teeth on edge. No, I don't like him. But I am  _ not  _ afraid of him.”

“Never said you had to be,” they said and shrugged. “But be careful. That's all I'm saying.” Helyne nodded and was about to change the subject when her commlink beeped loudly. Falinx startled, shooting a glare at the tiny device as a small holo of Captain Daanin appeared. 

“General, Commander. We’re loading the shuttle now. Hangar bay 2, come meet us when you’re ready….sir.” He gave a quick salute before the holo vanished. Falinx flicked their ears. 

“We should go,” they murmured. Helyne nodded and turned to leave the bridge.

“I’m eager to see what the locals think of us,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s always different on every planet.”

“I have a gut feeling they might not like us.” Falinx mused as they stepped into the hangar. “From what I’ve read, Asfaloth is notoriously neutral and even some of the stories about this place describe it as somewhere between deadly, beautiful and alive.”

The pair approached the shuttle that Captain Daanin was standing by, the rest of their squad already gathered inside.

“Ready when you are.” Daanin said with a nod to them both as they stepped into the shuttle. He had his helmet off; his hair was too long to be tidy and too short to be tied, so he wore it combed back like a rascal. For a brief second he met her eyes, and though he didn't smile, she could read the warmth and affection in his gaze as he nodded again.

“Let’s go meet Asfaloth.” Helyne said. She paused to look over her shoulder at Master Sa Magre just before the doors of their shuttles closed, and caught his unblinking, cold gaze with a jolt. He was watching her with the stillness of a snake. When he lifted his hand to her and nodded, it was much the same gesture her Daanin had made - but very different in a way she couldn't quite place. She shivered as the door closed. This was going to an interesting couple of days indeed.

 

……

 

The home before Helyne couldn’t really be called a proper house by just about any planet’s standards. The main part was neat and compact, with a flat tower on one side. But surrounding it were half built additions on stilts- including an entire finished hall held up by a few precariously thin wooden beams. The whole place creaked and swayed, like it was held together with duct tape and determination. Still, this was the place the Chiss couple in town said she needed to go if she wanted a Republic base on planet.

She went up to the door with as much confidence as possible, Captain Daanin to her right side and Falinx to her left. Helyne lifted a hand and knocked lightly on the door. On the other side, there was the sound of people talking over each other and shouting before a young zabrak boy- he couldn’t have been any older than 19- yanked the door open. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, shoving a nautolan teenager back with one hand. “I swear to gods, Damyan, if you don’t -”

“Ah, yes, hello,” she said with a polite smile. “Is this the Erithuda house? I am Jedi Master Helyne Maai. Someone told me you were in charge.

The boy snorted and rolled his eyes. “In charge, huh? Good luck with that….” He trailed off, looking between the three of them. Falinx gave him a tight-lipped smile and wave, while Daanin looked steadily ahead. The zabrak narrowed his eyes at the clone, which made Helyne clench her hand around the hilt of her lightsaber. If anyone so much as  _ thought  _ of hurting her boys...

“Jedi, you said?” The zabrak hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Better come inside.”

…….

Cat would remember this for the rest of his life. 

Crow had been up in the rafters of the dormitory loft they were supposed to be working on; Switch was painting a mural on the wall, Rowan was (of course) with his wife, and Charm was just getting off the shuttle with his new boyfriend’s hand held in his, when it happened.

When the knock came at the door. 

Cat perched in the cross-bars by the ceiling, watching the door. When Draxo let the newcomers in, he shrank back against the wall. Jedi, and not just Jedi - a brother. Likely a captain, by his armor. The Erithudas had gathered in the foyer in a loosely defensive half-circle, their gazes guarded and frosty. Draake wiped his hands on his overalls. “Something I can do for you, lass?” he asked, lekku curling. “This planet is neutral. We have nothing to offer for your war.”

Cat would’ve heard the rest of the Jedi’s reply, except right then, the rest of the commando squad followed their commanders in the door. More brothers. Cat’s heart constricted. 

The one closest to him looked around and pulled off his helmet - and Cat cried out and jumped to the ground, shocking everyone into silence. 

“It’s you,” he said, blinking back tears. “Is it….Mouse?” He reached up with one hand to brush Mouse’s cheekbone with his thumb. “It’s me, it’s Cat. I’m here.”

Nothing moved. Nobody spoke; Mouse had gone deathly pale like he’d seen a ghost. Then, without a single word, he lunged and threw his arms around his neck, a squeak of a sob escaping his throat. “I thought you were dead!” he hissed. “Cat, where the hell...oh, don’t ever leave me again.”

They were both crying now, he knew, and he didn’t care. He never wanted Mouse to let go of him. He laughed through his tears, clinging to him like a lifeline. He only pulled back, briefly, to meet Mouse’s eyes, and then he leaned back in and kissed him the way he’d wanted to all those long months ago when they’d been separated. 

He heard the silence break around them like waves, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Mouse.

……

Why was he so afraid?

Rogue hung back behind the crowd, hiding in the chaos of introductions and reunions. Winger was here, he could feel the beat of his heart so close. He should find him. Go to him the way Cat had to Mouse. 

He didn’t move. 

All the old fears rose up in his mind, old wounds reopening with the same bitter sting. Had he moved on? Left him, knowing he was still alive? Did he blame himself? Was he safe?

And, most insidious of all -  _ what if he didn’t want Rogue?  _ He’d been in love with Witcher. But Witcher was dead. What if Winger didn’t want him back, didn’t want half a man?

His heart twisted in his chest, and he bowed his head. Across the gulf - just a few feet, but crossing it seemed impossible - he saw him. He saw the love of his life, taking off his helmet and shaking out his hair just how he used to, and Rogue’s hands itched to run his fingers through it once more.

Winger looked his way. Caught his breath, dark eyes widening. Rogue’s heart leaped. But there was no answering flash of joy in his love’s eyes - no, instead, Winger looked  _ afraid  _ of him. They stared, silence falling between them.

A sharp whistle startled them both, and all eyes turned to Doriana, who sat perched on the railing above the foyer. She jumped to the ground with the grace of a cat, glaring coolly around the room.

“Everyone,” she said, voice sharp as midwinter ice. “I don’t care how crowded it gets. Everyone into the kitchen  _ right now  _ so my father can actually hear himself speak.” She cast Draake an amused glance. He rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“You heard the woman. Kitchen, now.”

Just as they started to file toward the dining room door, Winger met his eyes again. And then he deliberately turned away, and slipped out a side door. Out of the house. Away from Rogue.

…...

 

If there'd been any doubt as to where Dreu got her bloodthirsty tendencies, Doriana thought with amusement, it was gone now. She crossed her arms over her middle and watched Draake with pride.

“Right,” the old twi’lek said as he sat down to hold court from his creaky chair at the head of the table. “You Jedi types, you're welcome to rest and refuel here for a few days. Discussion of a permanent base here or on our moons, well, that's going to involve a Council meeting.” His long lekku hung down in front of his shoulders, twirled together and tied. His gaze pierced the heart of each newcomer in turn. “In the meantime, we have one rule in this house: if you do or say anything to hurt my people, I'll rip your guts out and hang you from the rafters with them so fast you'll bite your tongue off before your heart stops beating.” He folded his work-roughened hands and smiled pleasantly. “Are we clear?”

Various mutterings from the clones, a few amused glances. One of them - young, probably not long off Kamino - turned pale and nodded rapidly.

“Understood, sir!” he chirped, and his brothers’ resultant laughter broke the tension. One of them wearing a medic’s sigil rolled his eyes and clapped the boy on the back. “Easy now, Trouble.” 

The Pantoran Jedi woman cleared her throat lightly and raised a hand; her men quieted down, though they were still smiling. She met Draake’s eyes with a calm, even state of her own. 

“Your terms are acceptable, Mr. Erithuda. My men and I will make camp in the hollow, if that's alright with you.” 

Doriana pursed her lips, watching the blue woman. She didn't care how pretty she was - no amount of still serenity or queenlike grace would make it okay for this woman to take away her husband from her. Her lips lifted back from her teeth, and she gripped Rowan’s hand tight. 

“Not safe there,” Draake grunted. He barked out a command to Draxo and Damyan in harsh Lothic, and they stood up.  _ Take them to the caves,  _ her father had said. She knew he meant the closer surface caves, not the secret ones that could only be accessed under water. 

As the clones - all of them, including the Erithuda clones - filed out, Doriana grabbed the Jedi’s arm to halt her. “A word, if you would,” she said coolly, blue eyes meeting gold in the now empty room. “Master Maai.”

The blue woman stood back and raised an eyebrow. “Yes? Going to threaten me some more?”

“I don't make idle threats,  _ jetti,”  _ she said with a sharp-toothed smile. “You respect my family's authority, which is wise. But if you take my family from me -” Doriana leaned close enough to smell her talcum and rose perfume - “You will wish for the mercy of my father and sister.”

Helyne’s gold eyes flashed - first with anger, and stubbornness as she lifted her chin. And then with realization.

“The clones?” she whispered, leaning back. “You don't need to worry about that, not from me. Do you see my men?”

“Not currently,” Doriana said dryly, but her face had softened just a hair. “But go on.”

Her lips curved up in a smile and she drew herself up. She was just a little bit taller than Doriana, even including her montrals, and Dori got the feeling she was absurdly pleased by the fact. 

“They are the closest thing I have to a family, along with my padawan,” she said evenly. She tucked a strand of purple hair back, with a sad little smile. “Likely the closest thing I'll ever have to my own children. I would do anything for my family, and I sense you'd do the same.” 

Doriana watched her, considering. She tried to sense her intentions, which was easier than she'd anticipated. “You see this ring?” she murmured. “That's my wedding ring. It's new. And that man who was beside me, that's my husband.”

Just as she'd suspected, she saw a flash of recognition in the woman's eyes. “I...I see,” Helyne whispered. “Alright, then. I understand - there are no republic soldiers here except the men I brought with me.” Helyne leaned closer to whisper the words. “I know what it's like to love someone you could lose so quickly.”

Doriana’s sudden warm smile was like ice breaking - she threw her arms around the Jedi and pulled her down to kiss both of her cheeks. “I knew I liked you,  _ jetti,”  _ she grinned. 

Helyne flushed purple and laughed. “Please. Just call me Helyne.”

“Doriana,” she replied, throwing an arm around her waist. “Come on. I'll show you around.”

……

Winger leaned heavily against the outside wall, his skin cold and clammy. It was Witcher- he was alive, he was here-! And….and Winger had run away from him. He groaned, shoving his hands through his hair. How could he have been so stupid! Witcher must think that he moved on, that he didn’t- Winger turned and started to go back inside. 

Only Rogue had stepped outside in the same instant and collided with Winger’s armor. “Ow-” Rogue started, limping back to rub his chest. Then his eyes flicked to Winger’s face. They were both silent for a split second before Winger surged forward to hug Rogue. 

“You’re okay.” Winger said as he laughed weakly. “You’re alive- Witcher I-”

“That’s- don’t call me that.” Rogue took a half step back. “Winger I...I’m Rogue.” 

Winger blinked, confused. “Witch- what are you talking about?  _ Ner ka’ra, _ you’re right in front of me. I know who you are-”

“I’m not him.” Rogue said sharply, moving away more. “Winger I-I…. I’m not who I used to be.” Rogue looked down. “Witcher is  _ dead _ , Wing. I just….you needed to know before everyone else.” He turned to go back inside, hiding his teary eyes when Winger’s breath caught in a choked sob. 

“I never stopped.” Winger said weakly. Rogue froze. “I loved you for so long- I loved the way you talked about strange rituals, and how you knew the folklore for constellations on every planet we got stationed on.” Winger reached for Rogue’s hand hopefully. “I never once stopped loving you.”

“That’s not who I am, Wing.” Rogue whispered. “I’m not-”

“Do you still know the constellations?” Winger asked sharply, urgent and almost begging. There was a strange light in his oil dark eyes.

“What?” Rogue turned, tears rolling down his dark cheeks. His voice was a bruised whisper. “What did you say?”

“Do you know the constellations? And the rituals and the prayers- do you still believe in black cats and karma and ladders? Do you, Rogue?” Winger’s fingers curled around Rogue’s wrist. “If you don’t, fine - the man I loved is truly dead. But if you do, if you still hold onto those things… I can love what’s changed. I just need to know- are you still  _ you _ ?” Winger’s voice got quieter, the closer he got to Rogue. This time Rogue’s breath caught.

“I- yes.” He breathed and sobbed. “Wing-  _ yes _ .” 

Winger gathered Rogue into his chest, kissing his forehead. “Then I’m here, my love. I’m here.” Rogue sobbed against the plastoid armor before he surged up and kissed Winger.

It was as deep and intense as their last kiss, but as hesitant as their first. Rogue’s fingers threaded into Winger’s hair, pulling him closer until they had to break for air.   
  


……

Mouse couldn’t believe this was real. He was here. With Cat. Mouse sighed as he buried his nose in Cat’s soft curls, his best friend- no, his  _ boyfriend _ \- nestled between his legs, his back against Cat’s stomach. 

“I’ve missed you.” Cat murmured, tracing the lines of Mouse’s palm. “We’ve been apart for so long but-”

“I know.” Mouse agreed softly.

They had wedged themselves into a rock shelf high above the others, almost too small to fit them both. The caves the Erithuda boys had taken them to was huge, easily as big as the Jedi Temple on Coruscant if not bigger. Stalagmites and stalactites towered above and around them, creating pillars. In some of the larger ones, there were shallow holes cut to place candles which were now lit- somehow it made the place creepier. Everyone had split off into groups- Topple squad and Jop squad. Eventually Winger and Witcher, only he went by Rogue now, rejoined them.

Mouse sighed, took another deep breath of Cat’s hair, before he settled down with his arms curled around Cat and closed his eyes to sleep.

  
  



End file.
